


No Such Thing as Black and White

by TheRainInSpain



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRainInSpain/pseuds/TheRainInSpain
Summary: It's the year 1900, a year has passed since the strike and tensions are rising in the New York boroughs. Marie "Saint" Bishop just wants to help out her friend and brother figure, Jack Kelly, but soon finds herself caught in the crossfire. She's known the newsies forever, why is she just now hearing about Spot Conlon the infamous leader of Brooklyn, and how can she get to know him when, for some reason, everyone is so against them meeting.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Manhattan Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a mix between the movie and musical, takes place a year after the strike. disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Disney does. Also I'm not really going through and seriously editing this, although I probably will when I'm finished. thanks hope you enjoy!

Her skirts danced as the wind rustled leaves around her feet. Autumn was approaching and while the days were still warm the wind was starting to take on a winter nip. Bag in tow she made her way down the street whistling a tune. Coming into view was the Manhattan Newsboy lodging house, and she had been summoned by none other than Jack Kelly himself. She stepped hesitantly into the entryway, pushing the large door shut behind her. 

“Saint!” called a voice behind her. She whipped around.   
“Jack,” she smiled.  
“How ya ben, here lemme take that.” He walked towards her as he spoke motioning to her bag.  
“Fine” she handed him the bag  
“ow ‘bout ya pa?”   
“He’s doing well enough, hasn't been the same since ma died”  
“Yeah I bet, what a doll”  
“Yeah…” they drifted off into silence  
“Well,” Jack started “we gots a new kid, he won't say nothin to nobody, and well, we figured youse da best bet for getting him to talk some, ya know? Jack started up the stairs hefting the bag over one shoulder. 

The lodging house was a sturdy brick building four floors tall. The Main door opened into an entryway with a front desk where kindly old Mr. Kloppmann sat and worked. To the left lay an entertainment/parlour room where the nuns taught classes on monday and wednesday afternoons; which also held a laundry room and first floor bathroom as well as, tucked in the far back, a small kitchen that was left unused. To the right of the desk was a master staircase that rose the height of the building. The second floor was nothing more than a large room filled with bunks, and a bathroom, the third much the same except for instead of one huge room there were two decent sized rooms.The fourth floor however, held private rooms where the nuns used to sleep, and where Mr. Kloppman should have slept. (and would have if not for the fact he had his own home and wife to return to) 

Jack wound his way up the staircase to the fourth floor, turning to wait as she made her way up behind him. He sauntered down the hallway now satisfied she was following him and disappeared into the second bedroom. She slipped in behind him and saw the little boy huddled in the corner of the bed. He was asleep, his chin tucked to his knees. He had dark shaggy hair and a hat that hung low on his head. His shoes seemed too large for his feet, but his shirt seemed to fit. She took her bag back from Jack and knocked softly on the door as she entered. The kid woke in a fright. Slamming his head into the bed frame as he looked up, he turned and shot the headboard a dirty look before rubbing the back of his head gingerly.   
“Hello” she said as she sat down next to him. He didn't reply.  
“I've brought some things in this bag here” she gave the bag a little shake “to check you over, maybe some new clothes if you need them, or medicine if you need that, or food…?” at the mention of food the kid perked up. She smiled and took out a bit of bread for the kid.   
“What’s your name?” she asked. The child stretched out his arm for the bread but didn't answer or uncurl. She tried again to talk to him; this time with a bit more of the bread. “Would you like some butter?” The kid nodded slightly and she handed him the buttered bread.

When he had finished the piece she’d given him she buttered another. He reached out for it but she didn't hand it to him. “I'll tell ya what,” she started, “you tell me your name and I'll give you the rest of this loaf, butter included.”  
He took a second looking at her over before answering. “Francis, me ma called me frankie” he took another bite and chewed thoughtfully “what's yours?”  
“Marie Bishop, but ‘round here they just call me Saint”   
“Do you live here?” he looked back down.  
“No, but I like to help out when I can, that’s why I brought this bag of things. I wasn't sure why Cowboy,” gesturing behind her, “called me here so I came prepared for anything” she shrugged and looked him in the eyes, or tried to. His hair flopped down obscuring his face.“Could you stand for me, let me check you over for injuries, or new clothes if you need them?”  
He stopped eating and flashed a look at Jack, standing in the doorway, before looking back at her and shaking his head. Marie smiled softly and turned to address Jack. He knew where this was going, he’d caught the look and before Marie spoke he smiled and excused himself from the room.   
“Could you stand up now?” she ruffled through the bag in search of her small medical kit. He nodded and stood up. He was no worse for wear physically although the faded bruises concerned her. They made light conversation as she passed him things to try on.   
“How old are you?”  
“Seven, old ‘nough.” he stated defensively   
“Old enough for what?”   
He just shrugged. His shirt was missing a button but that was an easy enough fix, his pants were on the shorter side but would last another month or two until she could scrounge up something a bit bigger, although She handed him a warm navy blue jacket to try on. When she asked he took off his shoes, and she exchanged them for a new pair from her bag, a good deal closer to his size even if they were still a half size too big. Frankie grinned at her revealing a button nose and cheeks splashed with freckles.  
“Wait!” he thrust his arms out to grab his old shoes from her, successfully rescuing them from the bag she was putting them into.   
“All my savings are in the toe” he shook out the book, and sure enough two small lumps fell from the boots. They looked like baby socks that had been sealed shut with some string. He stuffed them in his pocket all the sudden upset. “Now where am I supposed to put me money, anyone could steal it.” Marie could tell he was on the verge of tears, so she thought quickly.  
“What if I were to sew a little pocket on the inside of your trousers, one that only you and I know about?”   
He stared at her and agreed. They talked for a while and as she sewed she let him dig through the bag, he came up with an old sailor hat with a small worn gold insignia on the front. 

Jack chose that moment to re-enter the room. “Ah a little captain. Hey that's it! We’ll call ya Captain.” The kid's smile grew impossibly large. Jack smiled back. “Look at you, wese gonna make a fine newsie of ya. And a foise like that doesnt hurt, though maybe you needs a haircut so wese can all se ya. That is if you choose to stay… will ya?” Frankie looked over at Marie, who smiled encouragingly.   
“Yeah, I'll stay.” he replied, turning back to look at Jack.  
“That’s good news, we look out for one another ‘round here, I'll show ya the ropes tomorrow morning and youse can sell with me till you're comfortable with the other boys. Wanna meet em?” Frankie, newly dubbed captain, nodded. Jack looked over at Marie, “you coming?”

The set out for Tibby’s, a restaurant popular with the Manhattan newsboys. A bell rang as they stepped inside greeting a slew of animated faces. Racetrack was the first one to look up and see them; with a wave of his hand he motioned them over and made room in their booth. Marie didn't know most of the newsies, but those closest to Jack she had been introduced to. 

She had met Jack ten years prior, he was eight and she was six. Her brother, Oliver, was ten years her senior, and had sold morning editions before school as a way to make some pocket change. Oliver had been the one who taught Jack how to sell papes. He used to bring Jack home to family dinner on occasion, and from there he would pop in often, even after her brother left to work on the railways. Since then, Marie had gained a brother figure in Jack, who had recently decided to call her for help with newer newsies. Due to this she was most familiar with the kids, and Jack's immediate circle of friends. Outside of that, she knew the faces, but not their attached name.   
She snapped out of her reminiscing as she and Frankie slid into the booth next to Race, across from her sat Kid Blink, and Jack.   
“Well whose do we got here?” asked Blink, staring at Frankie.   
“Capt’n” Jack motioned to the backwards sailors hat atop the little kid's head.   
“Well Capt’n,” smiled Race, “welcome to the newsies, they call me Racetrack, and this here's Kid Blink.”   
Frankie smiled in awe. “Do you really only have one eye?”   
Blink chuckled. “Whose ta say.” he shrugged and sipped on his drink. 

The rest of lunch went smoothly, casual conversation floated around for the better part of thirty minutes before the door opened and the room fell quiet. In walked a boy, flanked by two others. He exuded dominance, although he wasn’t tall like Jack. His sandy dark hair was hidden mostly under a flat cap, and he wore pink suspenders. Poking out of his belt was a gold tipped cane, and a slingshot. Jack turned and edged his way out of his seat to greet the newcomer, although he cast a particular gaze down at Marie as he did so. There was a terse second where both boys stared at each other before Jack’s frown morphed into a lazy smile, and the other boy flashed a crooked grin.   
“Spot,” chuckled Jack, “what the hell are ya doin in Manhattan?”   
The other boy shook his head. “Well, wese got some business to talk about, not here though.”   
Jack looked around at the room, everyone had gone back to eating. He picked out a kid in the crowd. “Hey, Les!” he called. Les happily skipped over to Jack   
“What can I do for ya Cowboy?” asked Les eagerly   
Jack pointed “This here's captain, I needs ya to take him under your wing for a bit, show him around and all that while I take care of some business, and” he whispered, “help him make some new friends so he's more comfortable around everyone.”   
Les, now totally occupied with fulfilling Jack's orders, grabbed Captain by the arm and dragged him to another table filled to the brim with other young newsies. Maria stared quizzically at Jack, but he shook his head, so she kept her mouth shut. “Okay let's head back to the lodging house to talk some business,” Jack said as he led Spot out the door. He turned and looked back at the table. “Blink you take Saint home, you got that, all the way to the doorstop? Race you're with me this could be serious if Spots come all the way down from Brooklyn.” And just like that he was gone. 

They wove through the streets of Manhattan quietly. Marie was deep in thought. Trouble with the newsies was never good, last summer the boys took on the newspaper giant Pulizer. While they had succeeded, it meant she had spent most of the summer without seeing Jack, only getting updates when she would spot Race or Kid Blink in the streets. Fear ebbed at her stomach, who was the other Boy? Jack had mentioned he was from Brooklyn, and if he was talking directly to Jack he had to be someone of importance, or working for someone of importance. Marie knew sometimes Jack would send Race, or occasionally Davey to talk to the leaders of other Boroughs. For all Race’s charm he was also incredibly smart and good at that sort of thing. 

She should just ask Blink, but she didn’t want to seem nosey. Finally, as they neared her street, her curiosity outweighed her fear of judgment and she turned to look at Kid Blink. “Who was that boy Jack walked out with?”   
Blink sighed, “His name’s Spot, he’s da leada of the Brooklyn Newsies.” He spoke hesitantly as though he’d chosen each specific word with care, giving as little away as possible.   
Marie looked down and kicked a pebble on the street. “Why was Jack acting so peculiar? Rushing out like that isn’t like him, and something just felt off.”   
Blink took a second to answer, again choosing his words with consideration. “Jack and Spot… de is friends. Spot is dangerous though, and I think Jack wants to keep you as far away from Spot as possible.   
“Why?” she asked. “I'm not a newsie and Spot lives all the way in Brooklyn. Why would he ever be interested in-”   
“Looks like this is your stop.” Blink cut her off. Marie looked up and surely enough there they were at her doorstep. True to his word he walked her all the way to the door and bid her farewell.   
Marie closed the door behind her and looked out the window, watching Kid Blink stroll down the street. It was only mid afternoon, and even though it was Thursday her father had an appointment and wouldn't be home until much later. He worked as a tailor for many of New York's richest businessmen, and owned a small store, above which was the apartment they lived in. Her Mother had been a nurse. Jack used to come around after a brawl, and she would tut and stitch him up good as new. Marie felt herself tear up, now Jack came to her when he needed medical assistance. She felt helpless at first, she was not her mother, she didn't have half the knowledge or capability. Soon tending to an injured Jack became less frightening and more empowering. She was helping just as her mother would have. 

She hadn’t seen Jack all summer when he started enlisting her help for others, often calling her when someone needed a bone set, some stitches done, or had a cough. He explained he wanted to keep her from the fight, that the strike had gotten real rough for a bit and she would have been a target being his little sister and all. She forgave him. 

She grabbed her bag and hauled it up to the table with a thump. The blue and brown carpet bag was well worn, but sturdy. It’s handles once ribbed were smooth from use, but the metal still shown coppery and true. Dumping it out on a workshop table, she took stock of what she had. Often, when making clothes for people they would give her father old clothes, things that were worn or outgrown, and he would patch them up for Jack to take back to the Lodging house. Since her mother died, Marie had taken the chore upon herself. Patching and sewing new clothes from the bolts of fabric and used clothes they had.   
She repacked the bag with her first aid kit. Another bag of bandages followed it into the bag. Clothes would be put back in proper places in the store until some newsie needed a new shirt or such. Shoes were a good deal more rare. Often customers, common folk, would drop off used shoes as well as clothes because her father also helped with the church affiliated orphanage a few streets away. 

A knock at the door drew her attention, and she crept over to it. Business was closed Thursday through Sunday, her father only made house calls on those days, so the two ladies he employed were not in today. All alone in the shop she peeked through the peephole in the door. Jack stood there, Race behind him, and she sighed in relief. The door unlocked and opened with a chime, as Marie stepped back to let the boys in. Ordinarily this would be unacceptable. Jack however was a recognized part of the family at this point so her parents let him act as chaperone.   
Jack walked in and made himself at home hopping onto the counter where the register lay. Race, slightly awkwardly made his way inside after Jack, taking his hat off as he did so.   
“Hey,” Jack started “youse forgot this” he held out the sewing kit she had used to make Captain a new pocket. “Where’s ya fadda?”   
“He has an appointment and won't be back for awhile” she replied. He shot her a look and opened his mouth. Before he could reply she fixed him with a humorous glare. “And yes I know to lock the doors if I’m home alone, didn't you hear the bolt when I opened it for you?”   
Jack smiled and shook his head “I can't help but worry.”   
Race cleared his throat and looked at Jack expectantly. Jack ignored him. Race did it again, gesturing towards Marie with his eyes before focusing back on Jack. Marie caught on and gazed confusedly at the two of them. “Race would you like a cup of water?” she asked politely.  
“Umm… yes, yes please” he floundered for a response. Marie left the room to get the water. Try as she might, she couldn't help but overhear bits of what Race and Jack began to talk about. (not that she tried too hard).   
Her skirts trailed down the brick hallway fluttering behind her. Each foot intentionally creaking on the timeworn wooden flooring. The boys jumped away from each other as she entered the room.  
“One for you,” she handed a glass to Race, “and one for you.” giving the other glass to Jack she stepped back and resumed packing her bag.   
Jack coughed and then began to speak. “There's a party, ‘hattan boys had a good selling week and we were planning on celebrating a bit. They wanted to know if you would go?”   
Marie smiled. “What time I’ll have to ask Pa, but I'm sure if you’re there he will say yes.”  
“Don't dress too fancy.” Jack joked. “The Boys can get pretty rowdy.”   
“Ya gots to look good though, everyone wants to look their best, we have to impress the otha boroughs.” chimed in Race.   
“Other boroughs” Marie looked at Jack.  
“Yeah.” Jack rubbed his neck and adjusted his cap. “Well we weren’t the only ones who sold well, and some otha Boroughs were invited. You know like the Bronx, and uhh Queens. Not all of them of course, but their leaders are gonna stop in for a bit.”   
“Just their leaders?” Marie innocently asked. “That's interesting.”   
“Awe it's nothing to be concerned with.” Jack looked at her pleadingly. Silently begging her to stop with the questions. She acquiesced.   
“I’ll be ready tomorrow night at six for you to pick me up, but don’t worry i’ll wear something presentable.” she smiled.   
Jack frowned. Nothing to presentable.”   
“Would you relax?” said Racetrack. “I trust that Saint here, as a goil, knows how a goil should dress betta den us bums.”   
Jack shook his head. “I'm shora she does, it aint her I don't trust.”   
Changing the topic awkwardly and abruptly, Marie grabbed a small bundle from the table. “Pa said to give you these next time you were in.”   
Jack unfurled the bundle. There was a new jacket and undershirt, as well as warm socks all having been tied up in a red bandana. “He said winter was going to be a cold one this year, and your jacket was looking a bit threadbare. Also he wants you to come to dinner sometime this week, I think he misses seeing you everyday.”   
“Tell him i'll make sure to be ova this week, and thank him foa the clothes.” said Jack.   
“Thank me yourself.” came a voice from the door. Jack and race both whirled around.   
“Fadda Bishop!” Jack met the man with a hug. “How are you doing, sorry again I haven't been ova much lately. Been a lot going on.”  
“Excuses my dear boy.” her father replied tersely, though the smile on his face broke any facade of vexation. He noticed race to the side. “Ah and RaceTrack, it's been awhile. How have the horses been treating you.”   
“Not so bad as to be very bad, but not so good as to be lucky.” Race replied with a shrug.  
“Pa, they've invited me to a party tomorrow night, at the Newsie lodging house. May I go?”   
Her father studied her face, and looked at Jack. “You’ll be responsible for her?” he asked.   
“Of course, as seriously as I would watch my own flesh and blood.” replied Jack. “she’ll be safe.”   
“What time will it start and be over?”   
“Starts at seven, ends whenever people crash. Although I can escort her home anytime. However, they can get rough, and it is a party so have no misgivings about that.” Jack answered seriously   
“Well we are only young once.” He turned to look at Marie, “you may go, I have business out of town tomorrow night so you would be home alone with only Ms. Brinkle next door for company anyways.” Turning back to Jack, “I don't want you walking back at all hours of the night, would she be safe to stay the night at the lodging house? Otherwise, you would need to be back before dark, around eight thirty.”   
“She’d be as safe there as in her own home, I’ll look out for her and make sure.” Jack spoke proudly and earnestly, his chest puffed out.   
“Blink and I will too,” spoke Race. “she’s patched me up more than I care to admit, and we would neva let anything happen to her.” the boys exchanged a smile, and looked at Marie.   
“Then, you may go my dear.” her father said. “How would you boys like an early supper before you head out, I'm thinking of a stew with bread and butter.”   
The boys voiced their enthusiasm and settled in upstairs as her father began to cook. While they waited Marie brought out a deck of playing cards. Jack groaned, “seriously? I can't win with the two of you.”   
Race voiced his confusion. “The two of us? Here I was thinking I'd be the main competition.”   
Smiling, Marie dealt the cards. “I've been known to win a hand or two.”   
“A hand or two, you wipe the floor with me wheneva we play!” Jack exclaimed.

The game began, and by the time dinner was ready both Jack and Race were ready to admit defeat.   
“Geeze you’ve gotta be cheatin’, or... I don't even know how ya did that, and i'm good at this game.”   
“I never cheat.” she replied sweetly, “I just know how to play the game.” she quirked her eyebrows up at him.   
“Hey, hey, I do too.” he retorted.   
“Yeah when ya cheat.” Jack cuffed him on the head, sending his hat flying into his lap. Scowling, Race helped Jack pick up the cards as Marie set the table. They enjoyed a long dinner, talking even after they’d all eaten. Like Marie, her father was witty and sharp, although not unkind with his words. They discussed politics and weather and newspapers. Towards the end the relationship between boroughs was brought up. It only increased Maries suspicions when Jack not so subtly changed the topic. Something was going on, and damned if she wasn't going to get to the bottom of it.   
They bid the boys adieu, and Marie started her nightly routine. She couldn't stop thinking about all the new information she had taken in today. Something big was going on between the boroughs of New York. Jack mentioned the leaders of The Bronx and Queens were attending the party tomorrow, could they be allies in this whole mess. What about Brooklyn, more importantly what about Spot? Blink had said Jack and Spot were friends. She recalled that in one of Race’s updates during the strike Brooklyn had been a powerful ally, but Jack hadn’t mentioned anything about Brooklyn going to the party tomorrow. Maybe they had discussed everything they needed to today, or maybe Jack had just left them off the list. In any case she couldn't help but hope that Spot would be there tomorrow.


	2. Takes Two Ta Tango

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to try doing characters thoughts so those were supposed to will be in italics, but it didn’t show up in not sure why. also I’m trying to write with an accent when I do dialogue I’m not sure if it’s hard to read or not so lmk, thanks for reading!

Marie was nervous. She paced around the room shooting glances at the array of dresses on her bed. “Look good, but not too good.” Jack had said. With that information she should go with the blue skirt and very plain coral blouse. Oh! She thought. Race said I needed to look presentable, we have to impress the other boroughs. With that in mind the dark maroon skirt and pink lace blouse would be a much better choice. She heard the door ring, but it was only four thirty. Jack must be early. She made her way to the door in a robe, and looked through the peephole. Sure enough Jack stood on the stoop waiting to be let inside.  
She stood behind the door as she opened it, just enough for him to enter. There was no reason to scandalize the neighbors by inviting a boy into the house in a robe, at least openly. He blushed when he saw her state of undress and cleared his throat.  
“Jack, I need your help,” she said as she shut and locked the door behind them. “I simply cannot figure out what to wear. You said nice but not too nice, but Race seemed to think it's a dress to impress occasion.”  
Jack smiled kindly as she led him to her room. “Don't worry it's not as big a deal as Race made it out to be” He surveyed the dresses before picking out a plain white blouse with billowing sleeves, and the dark blue skirt. “This way,” he said while gesturing to the skirt ”any stains won't be obvious, but you'll still feel presentable with your fancy sleeves.” He flashed her a teasing smile as he closed the door behind him.  
She got dressed quickly and elaborately braided her hair back. She brushed some rouge onto her lips and cheeks, and swiped on some mascara. She finished the look with a small blue sapphire necklace that had been her mothers. The heart shaped gem was no bigger than the tip of her finger, but was encased in an intricate silver cage, looped through a fine silver chain. Satisfied with her appearance she met Jack in the kitchen. He grimaced.  
“I don’t look that bad,” she frowned at Jack. “And you'd better wipe that expression of your face.”  
Jack laughed. “You look great, a little too great; but I won't, and can’t stop you from looking amazing.” he held out her arm for her. 

Jack himself had tidied up. His hair was combed through and he wore his nicer set of clothes. He had washed his face free of dirt and the charming smile he donned completed the look.  
Now’s my chance. She thought. I can ask him what's going on with the boroughs. She did away with that thought the moment it entered her head, now was a time for celebration, she could ask him later this week when he came over for dinner. 

“You’re unusually quiet,” quipped Jack as they walked down the sidewalk.  
“Just thinking, and excited I've never been to one of these.” She cast him a long glance. “Where am I going to sleep tonight? I'd like to put my overnight bag away as soon as we get there.”  
“I have you up in my room, I normally sleep down with the rest of the fellas anyways. The door locks from the inside and you'll have your own bathroom.”  
“Thanks Jack, and thanks for inviting me.”  
“It’s nothin, thank Crutchy and the rest of the guys. He missed seeing you at lunch and asked if you would come, the rest of the boys rallied for me to ask you, and well here ya are.”  
Marie laughed, “looks like here we are.” she said gesturing to the lodging house behind him. The parlour room had been cleaned and cleared; tables for cards set up, a mountain of drinks stocked behind the kitchen counter that served as a pseudo bar, and Romeo sat in Klopmans chair, the ledger in front of him.

“Kloppman said you’re in charge Cowboy, he’ll come to check up on us around nine; but any damages and it's your ass and wallet on the line.” Romeo spoke over the ledger.  
“He knows we charge six cents a night, and another two just to get in. All of our wallets will be safe, we’re increasing business as it is.” Jack grinned at Romeo.  
“Dats great and all but why do I havta woik anodda party. I did the last one!”  
“Cause you can count real good, and you never make ya bed ya bum.”  
Romeo just groaned and leaned back in his chair. 

The party was in full swing around nine o’clock. The first two hours kids filtered in, cards were set up and the mood was lowkey. The Leaders had all met upstairs for the first hour, while Marie chatted with Kid Blink. Two Shoes, the leader of Queens left right after the meeting, but the festivities raged on. Marie sat next to Jack as he played cards, her head leaned against his shoulder. She sat up, bored of watching the game, and meandered around the room. In the back Race was playing bartender. They made eye contact and she went over to get a drink.  
“I'm sure you don't tell the nuns that this is the only use the kitchen gets.” She teased.  
Raced beamed back, “would I ever, dey would probably salt and burn the whole thing.”  
“And for all the alcohol I'm sure is spilled on there, it would go right up in flames.”  
She made a little explosion motion with her hands to emphasise; then asked for a drink, fiddling with a loose curl as she waited.  
“You’se sure Jack’s alright if you drink.”  
She looked at him stupidly.  
“Alcohol, I mean. Im shora you’se allowed watta and all that but beer is different.”  
“Let me worry about Jack, you don't need to babysit me. Regardless of what he says. I’ve had a beer before and don’t worry I wont over do it.” she grabbed the drink from his hand.  
“Yeah you’se is smarter den dat huh?”  
“Smarter than you!” she winked playfully and spun around, straight into a brick wall. It turned out to be somebody's chest, but damn did it hurt. He grabbed her waist as she started to fall and settled her back down.  
“But not smart enough to see that coming.” said the chest mockingly.  
Looking down at the small stain on her skirt, she sighed irritably. “Sorry I don't have eyes on the back of my head. And that you’re not smart enough to understand what personal space is!” she looked up and fought the urge to react. Staring into what seemed like her soul was Spot.  
“Heya Spot,” chimed in Race, an almost nervous lilt to his voice. “What can I get ya?”  
Spot looked down at the girl trapped between him and the bar, “whateva she’s having.”  
Marie straightened her back, yes he frightened her, but that was no reason to cower, even if he was encroaching on her personal space. “Could you please step back?” she asked nicely.  
“Why?” He taunted, raised his eyebrows and smirked, “do I’se make you noivice?”  
“As a matter of fact, yes.” she punctuated it by driving her knee upwards, hitting him where it really hurt. “And if you had maintained an acceptable distance that wouldn’t ‘ave ‘appened. She surried away, tring to maintain a dignified gait, while also trying to get the hell out of there. She wanted Jack, he made her feel safe, but was intercepted by Crutchy on her way across the room. They chatted and she peeked over her shoulder, letting out a breath when she saw Race still talking to Spot at the bar. Feeling a bit better she led crutchy to a soft couch in the corner of the room. 

At the same time, Spot clutched the edge of the bar, also trying to maintain his dignity in front of the other newsies. He slowly opened his eyes, and looked at Race. “Oh she’s lucky she’s a goil. Anyone else tried that little move, and I'd have soaked ‘em. Still might.” He muttered under his breath.  
Race shook his head. “I wouldn’t try anything with her Spot. Not unless you want to cut ties with Manhattan, and we’re your strongest ally. Besides you kinda deserved that. She’s a sweet kid, no need to mess with ‘er.” he finished his sentence with a comforting, but condescending tone.  
Spot rolled his eyes and accepted the drink. “Who is she anyways?”  
Race replied hesitantly. “Don’t even go there, Spot. For her sake and yours.”  
“Whadda mean, I didn’t say nothin”  
“I know where this leads and neither of you two need to be the least bit interested in the other.” Race’s eyes flashed warningly. “She ain’t somethin’ to play with.”  
“Oh would you relax.” said Spot tiredly. “What’s the big deal about this broad, c’mon Race? By now it's worse cause you’ve damn near intrigued me. Maybe I'll just go ask her myself.” Spot turned.  
“No… Wait.” Race groaned into his hand as he rubbed his face. “We call her Saint. She’s basically Jack’s little sister.”  
“Saint huh..” Spot chuckled dryly. “I don’t see it.”  
“Naw she is, most caring person I've eva met. You should try being nicer to people, might help you in the dating department. Not with ‘er though. She's off limits.”  
Spot refused to dignify the first part with a response. Caring! She just kicked me for christ sake, and nice. He thought bitterly. Nice is not how you survive in Brooklyn, and definitely not how you become king of it. “I do just fine for myself, don't need a girl on my arm, just one in my bed every so often.” he silenced Race with a look, “and before you give me anotha warning, don’t worry the last place I want that hellcat is in my bed, I probably wouldn't wake up the next morning.”  
Race smiled at this, and grabbed himself a drink. It was almost ten and he would be off duty the rest of the night. Spot chugged the rest of his can before handing it over to Race, “another.” 

Marie and Crutchy had been talking ever since the incident with Spot, of which Marie had neglected to mention. The clock struck ten and he sighed. “I’ve gotta play barkeep for an hour,” he looked to Marie. “You should go find Jack, or sit down with Race and play a hand of cars.” Marie looked up to the bar where Race stood with Spot, that was not an option. She thought. She waved at Crutchy as he hobbled over to the bar and set out to find Jack. She looked around the room, but didn’t see him. Should I venture upstairs? She asked herself. What if there is no one you know upstairs, you don’t want to be alone in a strange room of boys. This is silly, she chidded herself. I don't need an escort to go up a flight of stairs. And since Jack isn't down here he must be up there. In addition to that I’m sure to know at least a few guys up there. Her mind made up, she marched up the stairs into the next room. Bunks that normally spread across the floor in rows were pushed to the sides of the room. Boys lounged in them, on crates, or on the floor, talking and gambling away. She spotted Blink across the floor and decided to ask him where Jack was. He just told her to look outside. Frustrated with this seemingly wild goose chase, she made her way back down stairs. She gave up on Jack for the time being, sitting next to Race at a table, no sign of Spot. Race dealt her a hand and she upped the ante.  
“Played any cards tonight?” he asked her.  
“No, I stopped to talk to Crutchy for awhile, then went to find Jack.”  
“Did you?”  
“Find Jack?” she asked. Raced nodded. “No, I went upstairs to look for him but he wasn't there.”  
“He’s probably outside enjoying a cigar” Race smiled. “Straight flush” the table groaned.  
“Yeah that's what Blink said. I’ll try there next.” She laid down her hand. “Royal Flush.” she smirked and gathered the pot handing Race half of it. “Call it beginner's Luck” she whispered to him.  
“Doll you ain't no beginner.”  
She laughed and exited the parlor stopping briefly in the entryway to see that Romeo had left his Post. Probably for the best, let him enjoy some of the party.”  
“Jack,” she called as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. The air was cool, but not cold; a welcome feeling from the smothering heat inside. I should open a few windows inside, let some of the cool air in. “Jack?” she called again. “Goddamnnit where are you?” suddenly feeling very vulnerable she sat down on the steps to the lodging house. 

As fun as the party was, she wanted the reassurance Jack's presence brought with him. She sighed, maybe she was overtired, but her eyes pricked, and hot tears of frustration threatened to come out. She took a deep breath to steady her breathing, and wiped her eyes. You’re okay, and you can do this. She thought to herself. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and she screamed, jumping up in the process. She felt herself be yanked backwards, hands all around. Her assailant knocked the wind from her lugs with a punch successfully muffling her scream, and pushed something into her mouth. A bag was thrown over her head and her arms pinned behind her, holding her wrists behind her in a bruising grip. Suddenly the hands were gone. She tore the bag off her face, and spit out the rag. Standing before her was Spot, the gold end of his cane red with blood, his face grim. She blinked, and sat down. 

Her breaths became shallow as she struggled to catch her breath. Spot knelt a rare flicker of concern on his face. He reached out to touch her, but that only made her breathing escalate. Frowning at the Girl, clearly going through shock, he opened the door to the lodging house. While keeping an eye on her he spotten Specs making his way up the stairs.  
“Specs!” He called. “Get Jack outside right now, tell him it's about Saint.”  
“What happened to Sa-” Spots look halted Specs mid sentence, and he sped off to find Jack.  
Satisfied Jack would be here in a minute Spot returned to the girl who, in the few seconds he had been gone, managed to work herself into a near hyperventilation. He squatted again this time in front of her, his hands open and in front of him.  
“Just breathe with me can you do that, in and out, in and out” Spot tried to cajole the girl into breathing but it was as if she couldn't hear him. Luckily, Jack burst out the door seconds later. He scooped up Saint, as Spot tried to protest that she didn’t want to be touched. Sitting down with her on his lap, he put one of his hands on her chest, and using the other one pressed her hand to his chest. “Just Breathe with me Marie, slow breath in, long exhale out.” 

He sat with her for a few minutes as Spot watched. He felt as though he were trespassing, and he would have gone inside if not for the fact that he was likely the only one who knew what had happened. Her breathing slowed and her head drooped. She wasn't asleep, but she definitely was exhausted. She burrowed into Jack's chest, feeling embarrassed at the audience. Jack rubbed her back and looked down at her. “Hey nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said as he noticed the slight blush that colored her face.  
“Ugh, I hate having an audience.” she murmured into his shirt.  
Jack, seemingly for the first time, noticed Spot leaning against the brick banister. He nodded his head in thanks. “What happened?” he questioned softly. She started to panic again. “Easy, hey easy.” He said. “We don't have to talk about this now. Let's get you inside first and then up to bed.” She took a deep breath and nodded. She pushed herself up slowly and firmly, not an ounce of the terror that gripped her seconds ago on her face. A stone mask in its place, she walked stiffly towards the door before shaking her head and darting inside. Jack followed her in, Spot trailing behind them as they made their way up the stairs. When they reached the top she turned and asked Jack to wait. He did. 

Inside the room Marie sat down on the bed, her hands still shook. This is shock, I can deal with this, I will be okay. She fumbled with the buttons of her dress, her hands shaking too badly to undo it. Again, breathing in deeply she attempted to suppress the tears welling up in her eyes. This wasn’t working. She opened the door, to find both Jack and Spot still in the hallway. Jack looked anxious, he paced along the corridor while Spot stood, back against the wall, his face reserved. Both turned to look at her when the door opened.  
“Jack… I… I can't get the buttons undone.” She held out her shaking hand for explanation.  
Jack's face melted from anxious anger, to brotherly concern and he walked into the room, shutting the door behind them. He opened her bag and took out her nightgown, before turning and helping her with the buttons to her blouse. He undid the skirt, and corset, becoming angrier and angrier at the bruises she’d sustained. Finally when all was said and done he drew the sheets and blanket back, tucked her into bed, kissing her forehead as he left.  
“Don’t... go.” She stretched an arm out towards Jack. Smiling he deposited himself on the floor next to his bunk. He ran his hand through her hair singing softly as her eyes fluttered and closed. When he was positive she was fast asleep he picked himself off the floor, and into the hallway. Spot was still waiting. 

“You’se telling me there’s really nothing between you and dat girl?” asked Spot who was now sitting on the floor wiping the blood from his cane with a handkerchief.  
“She’s family. The little sista I neva had. I call her fadda pa, and her mudda was ma, and there was a hot meal waiting for me wheneva I walked in the door. Kindest family I eva met and now Ive fucking screwed it up huh.” He sat down next to Spot starting dejectedly at the door.  
“I'm not some hoity toity rich man, but even I see the impropriety in lettin’ a goil spend the night here, and helping her change. Man, you’se must be close to da family.”  
“It’s not like that, I was her chaperone, and I thought I was doing an all right job too. I had Blink Upstairs and Race downstairs, ya know guys she knows and trusts. I kept an eye on her too, saw her crack you a good one at the bar. Lord knows you probably deserved it.”  
“I’ll let you know-” Spot interjected but Jack cut him off again.  
“I stepped out for one second, sure she was talking to Crutchy and having a good time. The next thing I know, roller comes running outside saying I need to settle some dispute upstairs. After settling that Specs comes tearing through the room looking for me, and well. You know the rest. So now that we’se alone, what exactly did ‘appen?” Jack fixed the Spot with a look. It wasn’t quite accusatory, but it was harsher than warranted. 

“Relax Jacky Boy, cause you’re not gonna like this next part.” Spot looked down as he continued cleaning each groove. “ I’s was downstairs, I decided to head up as I’d heard about he fight and that they was looking for you. You must have beaten me upstairs, cause as I got to the second floor landing I saw ya goil slip out the front door calling your name. I went to tell her you were upstairs but hung back a second, cause she and I ain’t exactly on the best of toims (terms). There was nobody else down there so I decided to go anyways, seein’ how it's not exactly safe. Anyways I get out the door and there’s two guys on her and a bag ova her ‘ead. They were newsies, cointanly not any of mine, and I'm guessing your boys know betta. So that leads me to think-”  
“Queens.” Jack answered for him. He motioned for Spot to continue.  
“Well there’s not much else. I started hittin em with me cane and they ran off. I'd have done more damage or gone affta ‘em but ya goil wasn’t doin’ too hot. Credit to her I guess, she didn't start crying. The breathing thing was kinda freaky though.  
Jack let out a long sigh. “Thanks, Spot. I don’t know what I'm gonna do. How do I tell her fadda I let him down. I swore I’d protect her, looks like I didn't do a very good job huh.”  
‘I don't think this was really something you could control. Those guys were gonna grab someone, it just so happened to be her.” Spot tried to console his friend.  
“God, her faddas out of town. There's no way I can spend the whole weekend over there keeping an eye on her, but I don't feel safe letting her roam around by herself. Her neighbor keeps an eye on her, but some old lady aint gonna make me feel much betta against those damn Queens newsies.”  
“Why not just keep her here?” Spot asked.  
“Cause that makes her even more of a target, Manhattan and Queens aint exactly on borrowing toims, wouldn't help if she was seen here anymore then she’s probably been. Plus, I think it was more intentional den you’se know. See, Saint and Two Shoes have a history.”  
Spot looked at Jack curiously, impoloring he continue.  
“See, her olda brotha, everyone called him Marco Polo, cause he liked to explore. He would bounce around from borough to borough hawkin papers. He was so well liked nobody eva had a problem with it. He spent the most time in Manhattan teaching me how to sell like the best of ‘em. I'm surprised you neva met him; he carried the banner all throughout Brooklyn and Queens too. He wasnt a leada or nothin, but he made fast friends with most of ‘em. Anyways one day her brudda says to me, he says, Jack, I'm going away for a while. I gots me a job on the railroads, and I'll be exploring the whole country. Then when I sees me enough of that, imma hop on a little boat and sail away. That was it. I'd known him for a year and a half maybe two years. He was nineteen when he left, but he made sure I knew I was family. For a time I lived with them, but found as nice as that was I was too used to being my own boss.”  
“What about Two Shoes, you said they had history.” Spot added curiously.  
“I'm getting there,” replied Jack. “Anyways Two Shoes had a similar story to me and we was friends because of Polo. Howeva Polo neva brought him home like me and was always jealous that I was closer to him. When he left we both felt it, although I had the rest of the Bishop family, and a new little sister to protect. Two shoes was left alone. It was mostly left in the past, but a couple years ago, when Saint was 14, and Two shoes was 15 they started kinda seeing each other. See, her fadda would have appointments all over the city, and she would go with, similarly her mudda worked in a hospital by Queens. So she spent time in the area. Polo had introduced Two Shoes and Saint, a long time ago so he was a familiar face around town. The relationship didn’t go well. I neva got the details from either of em but she was definitely the one who broke it off. Eva since then he’s been sore about the whole thing.”  
“So this trouble Queens is stirring up, it's all poisonal?” asked Spot.  
“Yeah they’s is trying to get more territory.” replied Jack. “says they got a sudden influx of Boys and need the selling room. So they keep crossing the bridge. Its started a few fights but nothing crazy yet. That's why when you came to talk business I was curious if they was doin’ the same thing to Brooklyn.’  
“They wouldn't dare, Brooklyn boys are tough and mean, Queens wouldn't last a day on our toif(terf).” Spot spoke with certainty.  
“Yeah, it’s personal,” Jack said with a sign. “Manhattans got a limited amount of space, it doesn’t even make sense to move into Manhattan to sell. Anyways I was hopin’ to sooth over the tensions tonight, but Two Shoes stormed outta here right before you got here. Shooter was here too, from the Bronx, and agreed that there was no reason for Two shoes to be steppin on our toes, so to speak.”  
“Hey, “ interrupted Spot, “how come I seem to be the only one whose neva met Saint? You and I have been...” Spot faltered. “Allys for years, know ya since we was little and everything.”  
Jack glanced over at his friend and chuckled. “It was best for both of youse. I know youse a decent guy, but youse is still a guy and you like a pretty girl.”  
“What does that have ta do with anything?” replied Spot.  
“Spot, we is friends. I know you don't want to admit it but we are. I know your reputation and I don't want her getting hurt, and after the whole thing with Two Shoes I didn’t want anything that could sour our relationship etha’.”  
Spot considered this. “still, “ he spoke quietly. “Years of friendship and you neva introduced us.”  
“Actually you guys did meet one time.” Jack mumbled, “I'm surprised you don't remember.”


	3. A Game Of Chess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Thanks for reading I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> I have yet to figure out the italics, but I'm working on it, anyways enjoy!

Spot whipped his head around. “So I’se met the goil before,” he shook his head in disbelief. “When?”  
Jack ran his hand through his hair adjusting his cap in one fluid motion. “That’s a story foah anudda time Spot. Right now I gots ta figure out how I’m goin to make this right.  
Spot contemplated for a minute offering to let her stay in Brooklyn. She already didn’t like him, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that for the rest of the weekend, so that was out. “I could loan ya a boid. Chirp, fastest one I got. Wheneva you’se not there set him outside or he’ll even inside I’m sure he’d appreciate a free meal.”  
Drawing in a breath, Jack considered it. This was his little sister's safety. He’d let her down once and he wasn’t planning on doing it again. Two Face knew her house. He knew her father made house calls and private appointments Thursday through Sunday. And he knew that if she weren’t with her father she’d be home alone. However, Two Face couldn’t possibly know whether or not her father was out of town. Maybe it had been a ruse to scare them, he could have seen her at the party earlier and just taken advantage of the moment. Jack sighed, something didn’t sit right in his gut. For some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling it was intentional, and would happen again.  
He stood up frustrated and began to pace. “I can’t take the chance that this is a one time thing, I have to think he’ll try again.” Jack continued the length of the hallway before doubling back.

Spot was in an awkward place. Jack kept mumbling to himself. “She’ll just have to follow me around the next few days… keep her in eye sight the whole time… maybe take her to Meddas… can’t cause more trouble for Medda…”  
“Would you stop pacing.” Spot grumbled. “The floor is worn enough as it is without you wearing a hole through the goddamned thing.”  
Jack halted and ran a hand down his face.  
“Any more suggestions?” He asked. “Cause all I have is she can follow me around foah the next two day’s like a shadow. Even then that’s not entirely safe eitha.” He slid down the wall next to Spot.

This was the moment to offer. Offer that she spend the next two days in Brooklyn. Two Face wouldn’t know she was there, and even if they did they wouldn’t step onto Brooklyn’s turf. Not unless they wanted to limp out, and Jack would owe him one. Spot liked it when people owed him favors, he had a notebook. Small, like the kind detectives use. It was bound in a blue leather with contrasting yellow pages. The blue ink of the lines marred by Spots pencil etching. Each page was filled with names, and favors. Anything that could be pulled up at last resort. He liked having power over people, feeling as though he could force their hand at a whim. Often he didn’t collect on a favor until there was no other option, but after the help he’d needed yesterday, he and Jack were even. He sighed, the temptation of writing Jacks name down again was too strong.  
“Okay Jackie boy here’s what I’ll do foah ya.” He groaned internally, making sure he wanted to do this before he offered. “I’ll take ya goil ta Brooklyn, for the rest of the weekend. She’d be safe. Nobody would have ta know she was even der. Those Queens boys couldn’t step foot in my territory without one of my boidys knowin, not that they would step foot in the foist place. I’ll keep and eye on her. She’d be safe.” 

Jack grimaced. “I trust ya Spot, but I have ta admit I don’t like the idea of youse two seein so much of each otha. Expecially with me not there.”  
Spot scoffed. “You think my charm is that powaful, what canna I say… I’m irresistible.” Spot threw Jack a sultry look before laughing. “I ain’t tryna sweet-talk my way into yoah sistas panties. I think she’d strangle me with em foist.”  
Jack frowned, “can we stop talking about her...ahem… pants.” He looked so ridiculously uncomfortable Spot cracked a rare uninhibited smile, ear to ear.  
“I’m just tellin’ ya how it is Jack. She’d be safe, I won’t touch er, and none of me boys would lay a finga on ‘er.”  
“Fingas ain’t what I’m worried about” Jack replied tartly. “She’s sensitive, even if you don’t see it. Can you promise to protect her feelings as well?.”  
This was an issue. Spot was good with words, he could charm the best of em, but he needed a strategy. Pleasing people for the sake of it didn’t come naturally to him and he Neva broke a promise. So… could he make this one? He thought back to the rest of the night, Jack sold her short. In every instance she’d remained strong, nothing like the fragile girl he was describing. He could do two day’s.  
“For you Kelly, anything.” Spot smirked.  
“You’ll—“  
“Owe ya one.” Jack finished. “I know how it works, redeemable any time, in any case. Say, ain’t we good enough friends to not need that, you knows I’d have ya back regardless of my name bein’ in your books.”  
Spot met Jack's eye with a fierce slightly teasing gleam. “Why do ya think I’ve nevah actually redeemed any of youah favors?” Not waiting for an answer Spot stood up and dusted himself off. “Back to the party, we’ll talk more in the morning.” He tipped his hat to Jack and sauntered down the stairs. 

Jack scoffed at Spots antics and made his way into the adjoining bedroom. Walking through the connected bathroom he locked the door to his room, and took a last look at Marie. She was still tucked safely in his bed. Walking back through the bathroom he locked the other bedroom door and slumped into the empty room's bed. 

Marie woke up the next morning groggy. She sat up and the memories came back. While it did indeed cause a shiver to arch down her back, the overwhelming panic she felt the night before didn't come back. She shook her head, and got out of bed. There was a mirror on the dresser, badly in need of a scrub but she could still see her reflection. She brushed out her hair and got dressed repacking her bag as she went. Downstairs the boys were all slumped in various degrees of disarray. Some slept on bunks, others halfway off of one. One boy lay passed out in the middle of the floor. Any boy under age eleven had been sent to the third floor around ten for bed. Those younger newsies are who carried the morning edition, while the older ones slept in. Because of this, the lodging house was peaceful, snores echoed through the hallway. Marie was looking again for Jack, but instead of a long search she delightfully found him sitting in the parlour… with Spot. She supposed if He and Jack were friends, then he had to have some redeemable qualities. Of which she had not witnessed yet. Or… had she? When the bag came off her face, he was there, the first and only person she saw. So clearly he had to have been the one to fend off her attackers. In some ways it appeared as though she now owed him a debt of gratitude. She ambled into the room, bag in tow and sat down next to Jack who smiled at her. Spot frowned. Maybe he’s just not a morning person, or a people person. The thought bitterly.  
“Morning.” she greeted cherrily, they echoed the sentiment before continuing to talk like she wasn't there.  
“Yes , I know Jack. I undastand all youah concerns. It’ll be safe.” Spot articulated carefully.  
“What’ll be safe?” inquired Marie.  
Both boys looked at her as if just noticing she was there.  
“Saint, how’d ya sleep? Asked Jack, ignoring her question.  
“Fine, and I feel fine now so there's no reason to step around me carefully.” she rolled her eyes.  
Spot leaned in, narrowing his eyes. “So tell us then, what exactly ‘appened?”  
She shrugged, “Race told me Jack might be outside so I went looking for him, he wasn't there and I decided the cool air felt great. I sat down on the steps and all the sudden someone's hands were on my back. Next thing I knew someone through a bag ova’ my head. I didn't even see it comin’.” she mirrored Spot, daring him to question her statement. Looking back at Jack she smiled, “I’m shoah you know the rest.”  
“So you have no idea who it is?” prodded Jack.  
“No, but I'm guessing you do, and it’s got something to do with youah odd behaviah, and the party last night.” she stared directly at Jack.  
“We’se think it was Two Shoes.” Spot interjected, watching for her reaction.  
“Spot, damnit, the hell ya sayin that for?” Jack shot Spot a look.  
Marie eyed Spot, but addressed Jack. “So you disagree?”  
“No, I’se just wanted to tell ya a bit easier, you’se and Two Shoes hava history ya know. I dont know what exactly ‘appened but it seemed bad.”  
“What's going on in the boroughs, and why is there tension all the sudden?”  
“Marie, It's complicated.”  
“So complicated I can't understand it Jack?”  
He groaned while Spot guaffed.  
“It’s not that Saint, I’se know how smaht ya are. I’se just wanted to keep you out of it.”  
“Well, It’s too late for that, I'm already involved now aren't I.”  
“And if I can help it, that's as involved as yoah going to get.” Jack finished his sentence sitting back in his chair, arms crossed with an air of finality about it. Marie turned and looked at Spot.  
“Thank you for helping me last night.” with that she turned and left. Jack leapt up growling, and stalked over to the door. Eager to see how this would resolve itself, Spot slung his cane into his belt loop and followed the drama. They marched down the street like a procession. Marie led, as Jack trailed behind her waving his arms and ranting about safety and whatnot. Spot frowned as they weaved through the streets. Where are we going? He thought. They came to a stop about ten minutes later. Marie stopped and whirled around.  
“Are you finished yet?”  
“No, as a matta a fact I’se not quite done.” retorted Jack.  
“Well feel free to come inside when you've figured yourself out.” She walked up the steps unlocking her front door and sliding inside.  
Jack turned around to face Spot.  
“I can’t get though to her.” He made a face at the window.  
“She might have a point Jack, it does involve her, and yoah gonna need to tell her sooner or later. You’se can't expect her to listen to you if you aint willin’ ta listen to ‘er.”  
“Yoah right.” said Jack, and he beckoned for Spot to follow him up the doorstep.  
Inside, Marie had disappeared up into the house part of the building, and Jack invited Spot to take a seat. It only took a minute for her to reappear, a chess board in hand.  
“I’se already told ya it has nothin ta do with how smaht you ah.” Contrasting the frustrated statement Jack grinned.  
“I figured you needed a reminder.” she smirked. “And while we play, you can tell me what's going on.” Marie spoke calmly. Her voice was a bit musical, and visibly shook the stress right out of Jack's posture as he sat back in his chair across the table.  
Normally Spot would have interrupted by now, but he was uncharacteristically fascinated with the process. Marie set the pieces out and the game began.  
“So what's going on?” she asked as she made her first move.  
“Queens is stirring up trouble with Manhattan.” he replied, while also moving a piece.  
“What do I have to do with this?”  
“Well I’m not shoah if they’re tahgeting you specifically, or just doing it to get to me.”  
“Two Shoes is the leader of Queens now, right?”  
“Yeah for the last few months. Howeva, he don’t have a good handle on the Flushings Newsies.”  
“Are those a part of the Queens newsies?”  
“Technically yes and no. The same way the neighbahood is a part of Queens county, theys a part of Queens, even though they all run their own lodging houses. See we’se not like that with Harlem and Midtown, they run their own game. Queens has three lodging houses; Flushings, then Woodside, then Queens. Technically the Queens leadah will be in charge of all three, but they pretty much each run themselves .”  
“So the Flushings newsies dont like Two Shoes, how does this relate to us?”  
“Well we thinks Two Shoes is usin his powa to staht somethng. Not really shoah what the endgame is but he's been sending newsies from Woodside through Flushings and into Manhattan claimin they got more newsies so they need more toif.”  
Spot watched the game as they spoke. Marie could have had Jack at checkmate two moves ago; either wasn't as good at this game as she thought or she was intentionally drawing it out while they talked.  
“That's a long way to walk to sell papes.” Marie stated.  
“It's how we know it's intentional.”  
“Flushings is closer to Midpoint. What's their stance on this?”  
“Theys irritated, but for the most part Queens been sellin on our toif so they didn't really notice.  
“And trying to snatch me last night?”  
“Eitha it was some way to get to me, or he stil has a bone to pick with you, now that he has some power to do it with.”  
“You don't know his motive at all?”  
“Saint, whateva game he's playing he's the only one that knows the rules, I've no idea where this is going to go.”  
“You never were one for anticipating endgames… checkmate”  
Jack grinned, “you strung that along didn't ya?”  
“Of course, now what are we goin’ to do about this whole mess?  
The three sat there in silence for a minute staring at eachother. Jack shot a nervous glance at Spot before clearing his throat.  
“Well we’se meeting with Flushings on Monday, until then… since yoah faddah aint gonna be home till Monday, I’se asked Spot ta take you foah the rest of the weekend. It ain't safe foah you in Manhattan I’se don't want ta make you more of a target.  
“And somehow I would be safer in a strange lodging house even closer to Queens?” she exclaimed exasperatedly. “Why can't I just stay at home?”  
“Two Shoes knows this address, and he knows ya home alone a lot of weekends, don’t he.” Jack questioned ruthlessly.  
Marie glared at him and sighed. “Anything between him and I was over two years ago! I doubt he would even remember.”  
“Well, I'm not willing to take that chance!” Jack spoke brusquely.  
“So how would Brooklyn be any safer than Manhattan. Send me to Harlem, Sparks and I are friends.”  
“Harlem ain’t safe, it’s too small and they couldn't do anything to help ya.” Spot spoke up for the first time. “Brooklyn, Brooklyn’s different, first they wouldn’t enta Brooklyn if they wanted to be able to walk out again, and second they’d nevah find ya.”  
“Also, “ said Jack, “it’s one of the last places they'd look. Manhattan and Brooklyn are allies shoah, and people know that. Howeva, Most people don't know Spot and I’se friends. Two Face would nevah suspect I'd put ya in any situation I felt was dangerous, and most newsies consida Brooklyn dangerous. You’d be with Spot, and I trust Spot with my life. If he says ya safe, ya safe.”  
Marie studied their faces dubiously. Spot outwardly remained composed, he didn't do emotion, howeva he was a bit touched by Jack's words.  
“Fine.” Marie said simply.  
“Fine?” echoed Jack.  
“Fine.” she said again. “If you trust Spot that much, and I trust you implicitly, then fine. I'll go.”  
“Its a deal.” Spot grinned. “Might wanna get ya stuff goily, I’se have an aftanoon edition to sell so we betta be goin.”  
Marie cast him a calculating look, but did not argue, simply turned and glided out of the room.  
“Yoah could be a bit nicer to her.” Jack said, turning towards Spot. “It wouldn't kill ya.”  
“Bein’ nice kills in Brooklyn.” retorted Spot.  
“See, we’se not in Brooklyn are we Spot?” laughed Jack. 

Upstairs Marie unpacked her bag from the night before. She thought about using her mother's old bag, as it was bigger, but decided hers would do fine again for another night or two. She placed two plain outfits in and removed her necklace, slipping a simple silver cross on instead. She decided to bring her first aid kit, and sewing supplies in case she had time to finish an embroidered handkerchief for dear Mrs. Brinkle, along with enough money to pay for a few meals. Finally, she slipped in a washcloth, her fresh lemon smelling soap, and a bottle of rose oil. She closed the navy carpet bag and made her way down the hallway. It was warm enough she wouldn't need a coat, but she grabbed a light jacket just in case. 

The trio made their way out to the street, walking all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge before Jack peeled off. He said his farewells, kissing Marie on the cheek, and spit shaking Spots hand.  
“I owe ya one” he said. “Thanks for doing this, I mean it.”  
“I know, and you know the toims.” replied Spot.  
Jack laughed. “Yeah, I know da toims”  
“And Marie, I'm sorry all dis is necessary, and foah what ‘appened last night I shoulda been there.”  
She looked at Jack and stroked his cheek. “No apology needed, I know you do your best. Stay outta trouble will ya, cause I don't want you walking to Brooklyn just for me to patch you up.

With all that said the two groups parted. Marie was a tad uncomfortable. She didn't know Spot, and for all that Jack trusted him, he was still pretty much a stranger to her. Well, there's only one way to remedy that. She thought. I'll just have to talk to him. That's not so scary. However, thinking about what to say, and actually saying it proved very different. She looked over at him and gulped. His eyes were fixed on the horizon ahead, cold and calculating. He walked with power. His shoulders were square, while somehow maintaining a relaxed stride. He had one hand tucked in his pocket, the other grasping his cane. She shook her head, he scared her, and she wasn't too proud as to deny it.  
“You know I ain't gonna snap at ya.’ He said.  
“How would I know that?” She replied. Hand digging into the handle of her bag.  
Spot shrugged. “I guess that's faih (fair), but you don't normally assume people will, so why would you think I would?”  
“Who said I assumed anything?”  
Spot stuck his cane out, running it along the railing of the bridge as they walked. Marie flinched at the unexpected sound.  
“Doll, I'll be honest you’se seem on edge, is all.” he finally replied.  
“Please don't call me that, my name is Saint.”  
“And how’d ya get that? From what I've seen ya ain't no Saint doll, kickin’ poah (poor) guys where it hoits.”  
“You’re one to talk, no decent man would stand that close to a woman they don't know.”  
“Good thing I ain’t a decent man.” He flashed a wicked grin at her and laughed. “Don’t let that be ya foist mistake doll.”  
“Well I believe there's good in everyone.” She spoke defiantly.  
Spot scoffed. “Den you’se not as smaht as Jackie boy made ya out ta be.”  
She stopped. “Are you always so negative? Seems an unpleasant way to live.”  
“Dis,” he said, turning around as he walked, “is Brooklyn doll. Most of us ain't living dey survivin.”  
“Well what about you, are you living or surviving?”  
He shrugged, “depends on the day doll, depends on the day.” with that they resumed their walk. “So what makes you so on edge around me?” Spot queried innocently enough. In truth he was itching to know what exactly she knew about him. Spot was well aware of the reputation and rumors that surrounded him, and he wanted to know if she’d known about him before he’d known about her.  
She hesitated before answering. “You’re a stranger, in an unknown environment, whom my wellbeing now partially depends on. I think that constitutes some warryiness. “  
“Partially?”  
“Well I’m not leaving it entirely up to you, I can think for myself you know, and I’m not as helpless as Jack probably made me seem.”  
“So you’se norvious (nervous) because I’se a stranger.”  
“I'm cautious,” she corrected.  
He rolled his eyes. “No you’se is scared, and that makes you weak.”  
She scoffed in return. “You know, Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.”  
“I’se dont need ya trowin (throwing) out Twain ta make a point.” Spot muttered.  
She smiled and raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.  
He didn't like where this conversation had headed, now she had the upper hand. And whats so damn amusing. He chaffed.  
They walked in silence for a while each weighing their next move. Spot was disarmed by her ability to be so damn honest, while skirting the truth, and making him feel a step behind. Marie was questioning Spot's motive; behind offering her a place to stay, his questions, how he presented himself as such an ass but could be almost charming a moment later. Blink told her he was dangerous, and Blink was not one to shy away from conflict, but Jack trusted him with his life, and hers. He showed no real pattern of behavior, and that's what made him dangerous to her. He was unpredictable. In truth he hadn't done anything to scare her, and she wasn't afraid of him. She didn't trust him though. 

The companionable silence didn't last long. This time Marie spoke first, with carefully chosen words. “Spot?” she asked to make sure she had his attention.  
“Yeah?” he replied suspiciously.  
“You asked me why I was nervous… and I don't think you asked to make me feel better. So what makes you so dangerous, that you think I should be nervous?” She posed the question innocently, looking up at him, and straight into his eyes as she asked.  
He chuckled in reply. “Doll, I’m beginning to think yoah the dangerous one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also as a side note, I took the boroughs mentioned in the musical during "Brooklyn's Here" and based the system off of that. Flushings and Woodside are two of the five original neighborhoods of Queens (according to a wikipedia article I read), but the musical had them separate from Queens so I split them up for this... kinda. If that part was confusing lmk I'll slip in a better explanation in the next chapter. Also I had to google all the boroughs they mentioned in the song, did anyone else not know staten island used to be called Richmond? I've been to NYC like once so maybe its just me. Hope you're having a good day!


	4. New Surroundings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry its taken so long to get this up, been busy with school. please enjoy!

The Brooklyn lodging house was similar to the Manhattan one. It was narrow but tall, made of dark brick and sat upon the corner facing the harbor. Broad stone steps and banisters lead up to a porch, that framed the heavy wooden door, scarred from years of use. It didn't give off the same friendly energy as Manhattan, and dread pooled in Marie’s stomach at the thought of spending two nights here. Spot led her past the front desk and straight up the stairs. From what she could see the second and third floor consisted of large bunk rooms, while the fourth was a long corridor that smaller rooms jutted off from. Marie scurried after Spot as he made his way down the hall. He unlocked the first door to the right revealing a spindly black spiral staircase. Hastening up the steps; Marie continued to trail along behind. They popped up a second later in the attic. 

It was a large rectangular room, the length had sloping sides that met at a point above their heads, while the width held sizable semiculuar windows. The first half of the room was taken up with old furniture, busted school desks and wooden bookshelves, there were a few chests and a wardrobe, and disassembled metal beds. Spot walked down the middle aisle as Marie followed marveling at the furniture to either side. The last portion of the room was much less cluttered. To the right there was a bed, neatly made with a red quilt on top; a black luggage chest sat at the foot unlocked. The window was flanked by two small bookshelves pilled high with newspapers and books alike, while an old beat up couch sat facing out toward the city. The left side of the room held a massive desk filled with papers and other Knick knacks. There was a light air to the room that the rest of the house seemed to miss. It was… cosy. Warm afternoon sunshine filtered in through the window, there was a very tranquil aspect to the room, private too. Marie looked at Spot.   
“Is this… “  
“My room,” he finished. “Yes it is. And for tha rest of the day this is where yoah gonna stay.” he turned to leave.   
“Wait!” Marie swirled around to face him,”how is this any safer?”   
“Cause ain’t no one goin’ to bother you up here, and des street ain't safe foah a goil like youse. I’ll be back in an hour or soah, don't make youah self at home. Everything on the bookshelves is fine but don't mess with the stuff on me desk.” with that he left,the door to the room below slamming behind him. 

Marie surveyed the room. She was tired, it was a long walk from her home in Manhattan. She hadn't slept well, but had woken up at eleven. They’d left her house around one, and the trek to Brooklyn took over an hour. After a day of walking she was ready to sit down for a bit. She grabbed a random book off the shelf and tugged off her shoes. The couch was comfy in the way only old things can be, worn down so that it molded around the body easily. She opened the book and began to read. “Hmm Longfellow” she mused.   
A Psalm of Life   
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,  
Life is but an empty dream!  
For the soul is dead that slumbers,  
And things are not what they seem.

Marie drifted off after the first stanza. She was standing in a room and all around her there were voices, echoing, catcalling and jeering at her. She tried to stiffen her upper lip, back straight, head up but the voices were relentless. Suddenly, Jack was there smiling, offering his hand to her. She reached out but her feet were tied down. Then, Spot stepped out into view and with a mighty swing struck Jack's hand away from her with his cane. She cried out but her voice seemed an empty gasp. Jack was gone. Spot turned his attention towards Marie and started to circle her, ready to pounce. Her arms became stuck behind her back, and she dropped to her knees. Spot lifted once again his cane and swung it towards the sky. His face was cold and stony, but his eyes ablaze with rage. He brought down the cane, and Marie flinched away. He didn't hit her; instead he dropped the cane and started laughing. Full bellied laughs that had him keeled over in hysterics. “Marie, Marie, Marie… you don't trust me do you?” He stopped laughing, and sat there staring at her, his blue eyes flashed with annoyance, then confusion. He looked almost innocent staring at her like a puppy who’d lost it’s ball. Finally, he perked up. Leaning in on his hands and knees he whispered in her ear, “Checkmate!” He settled back, smirked, then stood to leave throwing her one last glance before disappearing into the crowd she had forgotten about. Marie struggled to move, she was no longer kneeling but there were hands again, on her shoulders, holding down her legs and keeping her from walking. It was the other night all over again, she couldn't see what was keeping her subdued. Spots voice drifted in mockingly, “Marie, Marie, Marie.

With a breath her eyes flew open. Spot sat on the couch beside “Marie, are you with me? Are you awake?” overwhelmed she brushed off his hands and scrunched as far away from him as possible, curling into the side of the couch.   
“Im fine, I just… I need a minute... to fully wake up.” she didn't look at him, choosing instead to stare out the window.  
Sitting back, Spot ran a hand through his sandy locks and adjusted his cap. “Are you shoah, yoah alright?”   
“I'm fine.”   
“Well, when you’se ready I brought dinner. He stooped and stood picking up the book from the ground and placing it reverently back on the bookshelf. A small rectangular crate served as a coffee table and Spot chose to set the food down on it. Marie didn’t move from her corner of the couch until Spot had grabbed his own food and sat back respectfully in the other corner. He watched her as she grabbed her food and sank as far as possible into the other side of the couch. Neither spoke while they ate. 

Spot arrived back at the lodging house later than expected. He had left around three, but it wasn't until eight that he'd managed to make his way home. Fully expecting to walk in on an irate Marie, Spot had braced himself for a temper tantrum. What he did not expect to find was the room empty, until he’d heard the small grunts and moans from the couch. Walking over, Spot saw Marie fighting a tangled old blanket that had been draped over the couch. He removed the blanket and sat down next to her. The side of his hips pressed her calves deeper into the chair, pinning down the flailing appendages. He grabbed her shoulders trying to calm her, all the while saying her name, doing his best to wake her up. When she did, the lost and frightened look in her eyes immediately had him backing up. Spot wasn't one to dwell on awkward moments but they sat there, in an uncomfortable silence, the entire duration of their meals. 

When they finally finished he stood and cleared the trash, depositing it in a small trash can by the desk.   
“The boys are up playing cards and whatnot if you'd like to join.” He broke the silence. She nodded, but made no move to get up. He left her there. 

The Brooklyn newsies were known as guys who worked hard, fought hard, and played even harder, such was evident on the lower floors of the lodging house. Spot sent all the youngest kids to bed around nine, anyone under the age of thirteen was in bed by eleven, and the oldest did as they pleased. He ran a strict ship. The Brooklyn newsies had no superintendent, Spot kept the peace. Nothing happened in his borough that he didn't know about, and nobody dared go against him. Such a reputation, only fed by the strike, made Spot a feared opponent. Spot cultivated a fiercely loyal following, because each boy knew Spot had their back and best interest at heart. Any move he made, and order he gave, the boys trusted Spot knew what he was doing and they would be alright. All this being said, it made for a lonely life. Spot was held in such high regard he maintained a certain facade in order to keep up appearances. The older boys, who had been around the block with Spot, were good company, and it’s them he chose to sit down and play a hand of cards with. He lit a smoke studying his cards with a look of ambivalence.   
“Soah, any of you’se remember a newsie called Marco Polo, or Polo, from about ten yeahs ago?” Spot took the cigarette from his mouth.  
A voice to his right spoke up, his second in command, Bricks. “Yeah.” he replied wistfully.” He was friends with my brudda back when my bruddah ran the Flushing’s newsies. Introduced me to ‘em one day when my brudda came to visit me here. Yeah, now that I’se think about it you’se were wit me.” Bricks laid his cards down winning the hand.   
Spot didn't remember this, but he chose not to say anything.   
Breakneck, another trusted newsie, spoke next. “Ha! Polo, there's a name I hadn't heard in awhile. Only knew him for a short time. Back then I’d travel between here and Queens as a sorta boid for the Brooklyn leadah at the time. Polo’s the one who got me in tight wit the Queens crowd so’s that I was welcome to spend the night there. Good fella.” 

“Why don't you visit anymoah?” piped up the fourth and last person at the table. Keeper was the newest to Spots inside crew, being the youngest and having only been a newsie for a few months. Spot had known him since he was a kid though so he quickly rose to the top of Spot’s inside circle.

“I had a blow out fight with this one guy from Queens a few years ago, now he runs the joint, and I wouldn't go back if ya paid me. Most of those boys are decent guys, but not that muddafuckas group. Not tough, cowards in their own right, but mean sonsabitches.” Breakneck shook his head and drew a card. 

“Why ya asking about Polo?” Bricks brought the conversation back around to the start.   
Spot chuckled “We’se got his little sista here foah the duration of the weekend. It’s a long story, and Manhattan owes us big time, a favah for Jackie boy. Apparently Cowboy and Polo go way back. This is confidential information, if anyone asks she's just the goil of the week.”   
“Saint? She’s here?” both Breakneck and Bricks said.  
“You know her?”   
“Know of her at least.” Bricks corrected.   
“She used to follow around Polo, hung around Queens when I was there. Only met her a few times though.” conceded Breakneck.”  
Spot took this information in. How was he the only one who hadn't known she existed?

As if on cue, Marie floated through the doorway, and made her way across the room. None of the guys seemed to care, there was no glitching halt to the evening. She got a few stares but nobody deemed it worthy of asking, all too absorbed in their games or conversations to worry about some floozy. At Spot’s table, however, conversation came to a screeching halt.   
“Good evening, may I sit here?” she gestured to the open seat between Bricks and Spot.  
“Shoah doll.” replied Spot, nudging the seat out from the table with his foot.   
She frowned at him before graciously accepting the seat.   
“You look familiar,” she said to Breakneck. “Have we met before?”   
He grinned warmly. “Yeah, a couple of times, a few years ago. I knew ya olda bruddah foah a bit.”   
“I thought so. I never forget a face. However, I will say I seem to have forgotten your name.” she smiled sheepishly.   
“Breakneck,” Spot interjected, once more taken control of the conversation.   
“That's his name, cause he runs like the dickens at a breakneck pace.” Marie studied the boy across from her, Breakneck. He was muscular, but skinny and a little over average height. From under brown straight hair protruded a roman nose. His eyes here sharp and dark brown, and he had thin lips, or maybe they just looked thin stretched into a smile. He seemed like a goofball. He and Race would get along well, she thought.

“Care to introduce the rest of the company?” Marie quirked her head at Spot.   
“That's Keeper, there's no one better when it comes to remembering where stuff is, whether yoah looking for a misplaced hat, or lookin foah directions. He's also a renowned secret keeper.” Spot shot her a wolfish grin. “Then next to you’se is Bricks. He ain't called this cause he’s built like a house. Bricks here was found by an older newsies yeahs ago, throwin bricks at some bullies. Thus the name stuck.”   
Marie examined Keeper and Bricks. Keeper was smaller, younger too, maybe around fourteen. He had very curly black hair and dark skin. He too, was skinny, in an adolescent way. Big brown eyes at first showed simple innocence, but after another look she saw intelligence and curiosity. He studied her too, carefully getting a read on the girl across the table. Bricks was the total opposite. He was visibly herculean. His white shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows displaying veiny forearms. He was tall, very tall. He looked every part of the godly image. Dirty blonde hair was swept under his cap, showing off light blue eyes a straight nose, and defined jaw. Marie gulped feeling a little overwhelmed. Deciding it was silly to act so cowardly she cleared her throat.   
“Well it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” she beamed at them.   
“Want me to deal ya in?” Breakneck shook the cards in his hand.   
“Oh no, I'd like you all to like me when the night is over.”   
Spot smirked, “Too good to play us now, is that right?”  
“I consider it more… self aware. I have too much pride to ever purposely let anyone win, but enough common sense to know guys don't like to be beaten by a newcomer. Am I wrong?”  
“More like arrogant,” jeered Spot.   
He’d seen her play chess, there was more luck to card. No one should feel that confident with cards. And she’d never seen them play.   
Marie shrugged. “Call it what you like, I know my odds.”  
“How bout a wager then?” said Breakneck. “You play and if you win we won't hold it against ya, you lose, we still wont hold it against ya.” with that he dealt the cards.  
She won. Not just the first round or the second, but the third and fourth. She lost the fifth round and they decided to call it quits a few hands after.   
“How… how does anyone get so good at cards? You've got to be cheating.” muttered keeper.   
“I’ve just always been good with games of luck. Wagers tend to lean in my favor, dice roll like I need them to. Chess is different, that's a game of skill, and I do alright on that too. But cards, I've just always had a knack for drawing the right one.”   
By now the room had died down, mostly deserted. There was another table still playing cards, and a few stragglers smoking out an open window, but Spot’s group decided it was time for bed. She bid the others goodnight and made her way up to the attic with Spot. 

Once in his room, Marie grew nervous. Was Spot sleeping up here too? Who would get the bed, because she certainly wasn't sleeping in it with him. She noticed his shoulders start to droop as he took off his shirt. There he stood in his undershirt, his back to Marie.   
“You’se good with a needle right? He asked, still not facing her.   
“I am.”   
“I ripped by shoirt sleeve today, and seein’ as dey are kinda hard to come by I was wonderin’ if you’d stitch it up.” he turned towards her thrusting the shirt forwards imploringly.   
“Of course.” she took the shirt and walked over to her bag, grabbing her sewing kit out of it. It was small, and she made quick work of it while eyeing Spot across the room. He grabbed a sheet from an old armoire, along with a pillow from the bed.   
“You've got the bed, I'll take the couch.” he took his newly mended shirt from her and nodded in appreciation before depositing it in his dresser. He motioned her off the couch and towards the bed.  
“Where am I supposed to change?”   
“Anywhere you want doll, I won't peek.” without warning he took off his suspenders and started to take off his pants. She whipped around, no longer facing him. Her cheeks burned, and she stiffly walked to the other side of the bed.   
“Awe I didn’t take you foah a shy one, thought you’d be used to this bein’ so close to ole jackie boy.” Spot said wryly.   
At this Marie whipped around to correct him, only to shriek as he pulled his undershirt over his head, and whipped back around.   
Spot chuckled.  
“For your information, Jack is like a brother to me. What I have or haven't seen of him I'm sure is none of your concern, and you neglect to acknowledge the circumstance. This isn't the beach, this is your private bed room.” Marie looked down as she spoke. Her voice was harsh, but tinged with embarrassment and awkwardness.   
“Doll I don’t ‘ave to see your face to know yoah blushin’ bright. Do I’se make yoah nervous?” he was having fun with this, at her expense, and she knew it.   
“We’ve been over this, could you please stop trying to intimidate me.”   
“Tryin? I was under da impression I was succeeding. I’ll just have to do better.”   
“And?”   
“And what doll?”   
She finally turned and faced him. Spot eyed the tightness to her features, she was frustrated and irritated, but still visibly uncomfortable. She unconsciously continued to pick at a frayed thread on the nightgown clenched in her hands.  
“And” she continued, “to what avail? What's the goal in making me uncomfortable? Are you truly so sadistic your idea of a good time is embarrassing me.”   
Spot inwardly was taken back at her tone of voice. He thought for a second. His gut reaction was to intimidate her, get in her face. He’d nevah hit her, but he could scare her real good. People didn't talk to him like that, or if they did they learned very quickly that it was a bad idea. However, she wasn’t angry, just irritated, a few more tugs and he was sure she’d unravel. The temptation of messing with her was one he wasn't sure he could step back from. So, he shrugged and replied with a simple “Yeah.”   
“Ugh!” Marie cried, “you arrogant bastard. You try so hard just to make others feel bad because you know on the inside you’re a piece of shit, who's just as human as the rest of us.” with that she angrly stalked to the other side of the room. She only got a foot down the aisle before a hand wrapped around her arm. Spot advanced on her the second she’d turned. With a bruising grip he spun her around, and she glared fiercely at him.   
“Nobody, talks to me that way, and if you’se as smaht as you think you would take that advice to heart doll.” he noticed her wince and withdrew his arm. In the short scuffle they’d had they’d switched sides. Spot’s back was now to the stairs, and he took his leave of the room. Dismissing her with his hand as he started down the stairs. “I’d suggest you change, i'm gettin’ some whata.”


	5. Midnight Talks

Chapter five. “A Day of Rest” 

The rest of the night was tense. Spot climbed the stairs and was met by a quiet room, illuminated by the pale moonbeams filtering through the window. Marie’s small form lay on the bed, curled up. If she wasn't asleep, then she was choosing not to say anything, and so he made his way over to the couch silently. He’d wanted to irritate her, it was fun. He’d known he was making her mad, and had been ready for whatever verbal onslaught she would throw. At least, he thought he was. The blind rage that had been suddenly evoked by her words confused him. Without thinking he'd rushed her, clearly frightening Marie, and for some reason he didn't like that. Normally, he relished the fear he could cause, it’s why he’d been so successful as the King of Brooklyn. Not with her. With her, the gulping breath she’d taken when he had spun her around made him feel awful, and his own lack of control made him uneasy. Feeling guilty he flipped to his stomach stuffing his face into the lumpy pillow head pulled from the bed. His bed. As comfy as the couch was, it was slightly too short for him, and his knees bent to accommodate the armrest. Marie had slept curled up blissfully on the couch because she was several inches shorter than him, but he felt cramped. He sat up and looked over at the girl, laying on the bed. Her nightgown dipped, to reveal a soft slit of skin dipping between her breasts. Her form was clearly outlined by the blanket, and visions of her began to swim in his head. Laying back down on the couch, he felt even worse about the earlier conversation. Here he was lusting after the very girl who was probably scared to death of him. He knew he was an ass, and he knew he was a bit conceited. He could be ruthless, and violent, and had a habit of giving into his rage when in a fight; but he’d always done it knowingly. He wasn’t evil. He never bullied the young or disabled, never fought an unarmed man. His fights were all fair fights. He was fearless and ruthless because that's what it took to keep his newsies safe. While his own boys looked at him with admiration and respect, he expected the other boroughs nervous and wary approaches to him. He’d conditioned that response. His reputation kept people safe. He didn't have to be hostile, and was a pretty charismatic guy, but when people crossed the line he let them know it. Spot Conlon was not one to be messed with. 

All things considered it bothered him immensely that he’d frightened her. She’d done nothing to him. He’d tried the charm, it didn't work on her. She kept her wits about her when flustered, and kneed him in the groin. He tried to make small talk but it got nowhere. She had no interest in him, unless he was baiting her. That wasn't an excuse. He shouldn't have grabbed her; her response has been exactly what he was expecting. He was thinking in circles, and tired of the internal conflict. All he had managed to do was make himself feel worse, and still had drawn no conclusions from it. He threw his arm over his eyes, and propped his feet up on the arm rest settling in to sleep; reciting one of his favorite poems to himself. 

Marie was still awake when Spot entered the room. She noted the way he stepped lightly and trapeized around any squeaky floorboards. Spot had made sure she knew he was undressed, but had neglected to remove his socks. Clad in only those and his boxers he made an impressive figure against the light from the window. She couldn't look away. He stretched out into the couch, flipping over a minute later. Suddenly Maria was acutely aware of her ogling. Feeling shameful, as though she’d taken advantage of him she snapped her eyes shut, in time to hear the couch groan slightly. What was she doing, she wondered. He was frightening, enough that Jack had kept her away from him. Race had warned her too, Spot Conlon was not who she wanted to associate herself with. There was an aspect of him however, that drew her toward him. He was cute, she supposed, but so was Race and she’d never felt this way toward Race. He had an air of danger about him, but so had Two Shoes and that had been a disaster. She was wary of being physically close with him. Not so much in the way that he might do her physical damage (although she wasn't sure she could put it past him), but in a way that his presence made her slightly panicky, not dissimilar to when she was almost abducted. In truth, that had more to do with her panic toward him then anything he’d actually done to her. There had been hands, and then suddenly Spots face staring down at her. That was most of what she remembered from the previous night. Then there had been Jack, safe, comforting, and finally she’d fallen asleep. She knew Spot had protected her, but for some reason he still made her uneasy, wary, a little bit frightened. Okay maybe a lot bit frightened. If she was to make it through tomorrow (Sunday), and then half of Monday before she went home, she had to buck up. Show no weakness, no reaction. This was chess, and Marie wasn’t about to let Spot win.

Spot was woken up in the night by a rustling sound. Blearily leaping to his feat he looked around for a weapon. As the fog cleared from his mind he saw Marie, writhing in the bed forcibly enough to make the joints of the metal creak. He quickly advanced to her, sitting down next to her on the bed. Spot wasn’t sure whether or not to try and soothe her, or wake her. Last time he’d woken her she had been skittish and quiet, but seemed in general fine, and he didn't want to touch her and make the nightmare worse. Assuming the attack is what she is dreaming of, he thought. Waking her it was then. 

“Marie, hey it's just a dream.” she fought the blankets harder.   
“Marie… Mah-rie… MARIE!” he continued to call her name, resorting to shaking her shoulder slightly when it didn't work.   
Finally coming too she sat up, saw Spot and shrieked, scooting herself backwards, right off the side of the bed.   
In a panic Spot raced around to the other side of the bed. “You alright?” he asked quietly, squatting down a few feet from her, by the footboard, so as to not crowd her. She blinked at him in confusion. Finally, a look of recognition passed over her face and she relaxed, breathing out a big breath of air she hadn’t been aware she was holding.   
“It’s awhright, just me.” he said. “I woke you ‘cause you’se were having a nightmare.” Spot realized it was kinda a dumb thing to explain to the person having the nightmare, and inwardly smacked his forehead. Marie however, did not comment. She took a breath and slowly started to stand up.   
“Thank you.” she spoke in a small, soft spoken voice. It greatly contrasted the way it normally carried, clear and ringing. Spot reached out to assist her, but she shirked away from his hand. Feeling stupid, again, he drew back to the foot of the bed.   
“Sometimes, it helps to talk about it.” Spot offered. “It ain’t pretty ‘ere in Brooklyn. I've seen my fair share of nightmares, everyone needs a listening ear. Ask any of the boys downstairs, it happens.” Marie sat down, her back against the metal backboard, drawing her knees in towards her chest. Spot responded reciprocally, sliding in to sit with his lower back against the short footboard. He sat as relaxed as possibly, one leg dangling off the side, grasping the ankle of the other, his knee bent towards the window. 

“Why?” she turned her head towards him. “Why would you want to help me when I said all those nasty things to you earlier. You were angry.”   
“Yeah, I might have been, but that was earlier. I’m not anymorah.” he tried to reassure her by shrugging it off and shaking his head.   
She scrutinized his behavior, taking in how he sat, shrugging with his palms up. He seemed genuine, earnest. She could feel the anxiety building in her throat, and yearned to have someone to spill everything to. But as genuine as he seemed, Marie still wasn't sure she could trust Spot. If this was chess, like she thought earlier, it wouldn't do to be giving her opponent ammo. However, if it released some of this hurt, this fear, would it be worth it? 

Spot could tell Marie was having difficulty opening up. It made sense, he’d done nothing really to gain her trust. He’d spent most of the day antagonizing her for the attention. If she was going to say anything, he had to be the one to start the dialogue. 

“When I was youngah,” he started looking down. “Just stahting out as a newsie, I didn’t sell enough one night to pay da login’ fee, and eat dinnah. It was a nice ‘nough night so I’se curled myself up in de nicest alley I could find and tried to sleep. See, I’d made myself real small, practically invisible, so no one would see me, and it worked. It worked a little too well. A shoaht while latah, I’se was woken up to the sound of a fight. Some newsie shrimp, around my age, was bein manhandled by a large fellah.” Spot smiled and exhaled. “It was brutal. I picked myself up and started poundin away at this guy, tryin to help the other kid, but our odds,” He shook his head. “Dey weren't lookin’ too good. It was my foist real fight, and we lost badly. Howevah, two oldah boys came runnin’ down the alley, and beat the shit outta the bastard.” He looked at her knowingly. “It’s how I’se met a coitan Jack Kelley.” Marie quirked her head, now invested in the conversation.   
“See he’d been walkin’ with some oldda newsie and dey were plannin on stayin the night in Brooklyn. Wit dem was Copper, the ledah of Brooklyn at the time. Anyways dey brought me back to the lodgin house and paid my fee. There had been a big party that night and since the beds were taken Jack and the oldda boy took the one empty private room and I slept on a cot in Coppers room. Even tho I’d seen some tings on the street, I’se woke up with the worse nightmares that night. Copper helped alot. At foist I was afraid casue Brooklynn ain't for the weak and I thought he’d trow me out. He didnt, and thats when I’se learned being tought and being compassionate ain’t opposites.” Spot shrugged whilst making eye contact with Marie. “We’re only human.”   
Marie stared at Spot in amazement. Here he was… reminiscing… consoling? Making an effort. If he could do it, the King of New York, what did she have to lose.   
“I.. “ she froze, how did she even start it, and would he get offended that he played such a dastardly figure in her dream. Maybe I'll leave some stuff out, she decided. What he doesnt know won't hurt him.   
She twisted the blanket between her hands before looking out the window. “They all start the same “I’m standing in a room, or at least it feels like a room there's no real walls. Then… there are these voices bouncing around the room.” she paused.   
“What do they say?”   
Marie shrugged in response hesitating. “All sorts of stuff, catcalling, some names. The kinda stuff I hear the guys say when they don’t think I'm listening.” Pulling the blanket up around her she curled up against the headboard. I do my best to not listen, sitting, or maybe standing there stoically. Then all the sudden Jack is there reaching out, smiling reassuringly the way he always did when we were little and I tripped.” Marie faltered. The next part, she didn't want to tell. In her nightmares he steps into the circle of voices and strikes Jack’s hand away from her, then continues to torment her. He circles her, prowling, intimidating and taunting her. Here he was offering his support, how could she throw this at him? She would just be vague, she decided. “Then a figure steps into the circle of voices and attacks Jack. He disappears. The figure sort of circles me and I feel like I'm back in front of the boarding house. I can’t move. I'm rooted to the ground and the figure becomes more threatening. It leans down and whispers in my ear and I wake up.” she turned to stare at Spot. The startling intensity in his blue eyes brought back vivid flashes of her dream and she ducked her head watching as her fingers tugged at a loose strand on the blanket.   
“This figure..” spot trailed off. “anyone you know?”   
“Uhhmm.. no, faceless sort of thing.”   
“Marie I might not know you well but I’se can sense a lie, and you’se lyin ta me.”  
“NO. I mean.. Im not lying. Why would I lie? And would you stop interrogating me I thought this was supposed to make me feel better.” Marie huffed, looking out the window.   
“Marie” he coaxed, shifting slightly closer to her. “Marie, its okay, but holding back won't make you feel any better in the long run.” Gently he raised his hand, tracing his fingers down her jaw, and turning her head.   
Marie shivered and bit her lip nervously. Here he was being so damn nice. How could she tell him he was the tormentor in her dreams.   
“I.. I can't.” she cried frustratedly. “I just can’t” throwing her arms down she looked Spot straight in the eyes.   
“Can’t or won’t?” he pressured again.  
“I don't know, both... neither. Oh what does it matter?”   
“Well, now I’m worried, what’s so bad you can’t tell me who’s scaring you so badly in your dreams. you'd rather lie, than tell me. And why?”   
She didn't answer.  
“If it was someone I didn't know it wouldn’t matter, now would it.” he leaned forward slightly, eyebrow arching in thought. “So now who's do I know that you know, it's quite a limited coicle now innit? If it were one of Jackie’s boys dey would be safe, cause that would be Jack’s problem. I mean shoa I’d feel responsible to tell Jackie Boy if someone was bothein you, but from the lack of reaction I’se sense that ain’t it. De’se bad dreams, been happenin longer then you’ve known any of my Brooklyn boys, and im shoa as shit they didnt do anyhting intimidatin towards ya. If it were the attackers from yesterday you’da said as much cause we’se really don't know who dey are.”   
“Would you just drop it! Seriously, it’s not that big a deal you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”   
“Youah lyin again doll. It’s me isn’t it?” she flinched. At this point Spot had leaned way over. “It’s the only poiyson dat makes sense now ain’t it.”   
“Spot it's not that…”   
“It’s not what, Marie.”   
“It’s not like how you think it is.”   
“And what… do I… think it is?”   
“You’re thinking that I’m scared of you, that the dream means I’m scared of you.”   
“I do?”   
“Yes, but it's not that, it's more like…”  
“No, that's what it is. You don’t understand me, and thats scares the hell out of you. He spoke frankly, understandingly. “You don’t trust me.” There was that phrase again, and suddenly her dream flashed vividly through her mind. Spot lifted once again his cane and swung it towards the sky. His face was cold and stony, but his eyes ablaze with rage. He brought down the cane, and Marie flinched away. He didn't hit her; instead he dropped the cane and started laughing. Full bellied laughs that had him keeled over in hysterics. “Marie, Marie, Marie… you don't trust me do you?”  
“Marie, its alright.”  
“No it’s not, you don’t understand you’re being so nice, and here I am with all these dreams”  
“Nightmares, I’se can see they scare the shit out of you, it’s a nightmare. And it’s okay.” he spoke softly, but Marie could see his jaw clentch slightly in contrast with his words. “What ‘appens in the nightmare, maybe we can address it.”   
“I.. you.”   
“ ‘s okay, it really is Marie. If anything it makes sense. I’se probably de only face you’se can associate wit what ‘appened, and in da last few hours, I havn’t instilled alot of confidence in you about my character. I’m not a decent guy, and I'm not a nice guy, but I’m fair. So start from the beginning I’se won’t get mad.” As tense as he looked he spoke earnestly enough for her to relax.   
“Well you step in after Jack reaches out.”  
“I attack him, correct?”   
“Well, you sort of strike his hand down away from me, with your cane.”   
“Okay go on.”   
“Then, like I said earlier you start to sort of circle me, and I can feel all these hands on me, my body being anchored to the ground. You sorta.” Marie made a small gesture with her hand down playing the trajectory his cane had sliced through the air with in her dream.   
“ I sort of what..?”   
“You know.” she repeated the motion, a little bigger this time bringing her imaginary cane from her shoulder to the mattress.   
“... I hit you with it?”   
“Well no, you raise it and then bring it crashing down, but at the last minute you stop. You drop it. You, you start to laugh.” she shrugged.   
“And I whispered something to you.”  
“Yeah although I honestly don’t remember what. I just remember the feeling of helplessness, and your breath on my neck…”   
Spot stared at her, making sure she was done talking before sitting back and gazing at the ceiling. It was quiet for a moment, and Marie took a second to study the boy sitting across from her. He hadn't put on any more clothes since she saw him last, and the intimate act of sitting on his bed together, barely dressed was not lost on her, but it clearly was on him. She had the sudden urge to scoot closer to him.   
“I think it'll take time.” he interrupted her thoughts. “But, eventually you’ll realize I ain’t the same guy in youah dream. As soon as we figure out the faces of the guys who tried to hurt you, some of that anonymous helpless feeling should fade. Hell, I'll let you kick the crap out of them youah self if it makes a difference. Do ya feel any betta?”   
“Actually, I do. Before it felt like a crushing weight on my chest. I can breath again. Thanks.” she looked up at Spot shyly.   
She didn’t know what she was doing to him. That shy, trusting smile. Her hair framed her face invitingly, and her nightgown had ridden up her calf as she’d twisted around. He could just lean in, like he’d done earlier to turn her head, and kiss her. Suddenly aware of the intimate moment he stood up. She was already frightened of him, that much he knew. Going and kissing her would just confuse her more, and probably increase her anxiety. Whether or not it would even be a welcome advance was up for debate.   
“Let’s restart,” walking a few paces to sit on a random chair. He turned it and straddled it backwards, facing her. “I’m Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn.”   
Marie straightened her back, and tucked her legs underneath her staring at Spot.   
“I’m Marie Bishop, although Jack’s boys call me Saint.”   
“Where does the name come from?”   
“Well, it started as an off hand comment from Jack. I’d walk around with my brother, and I always brought Jack a piece of bread or the occasional cookie. And he’d look at me and go, “Marie youah a Saint.” I guess it caught on and soon all of Jack's friends were calling me Saint. What about you”   
“What about me?”   
“Well I assume your real name isn't Spot.”   
“You assume wrong. Real name and birth name ain’t the same thing. I've been spot so long it's realer than the name my own mudda gave me.”   
“Well how’d you get the name Spot?”   
He chuckled, “there’s a good question. I always had a knack, ya know for finding the best selling spot. But it was more than that guys used to say I could sense trouble. I was always good at noticing the details, and they used to tell me I could spot something coming from a mile away, figuratively. Didn't help that I'se a great pair of eyes. And can shoot well. Wit’ all that the name just sort of stuck.”   
“How old were you, when you became Spot?”   
“Well, I've always been Spot, I can't say I became anything I’se wasn’t already, but I got the name when I was prolly six or seven.”  
“What's your birth name?”   
“I think it's time we talked more about you.” he parried her question. In response she shrugged her shoulders. “What's the deal with you and Two Shoes?”   
Marie froze slightly. It wasn't a complicated story, but it was one she’d never told in full.   
“What do you already know?” She was sure he and Jack had talked about it, otherwise he wouldn't have known there to be a connection.   
“Not much. You’se dated, and broke up wit him a year or so later. I know he was friends wit your bruddah and that’s how you met.”   
“Well then it sounds like you know the whole story. It's not a particularly complex tale to tell.” She started to wring the blankets again with her hands.   
“But why, pray tell, did you break it off wit him.” Spot thought back to his short conversation with Jack. Nobody knew why they’d broken up, or at least, she’d never told Jack.   
“We had a difference of opinion that could not be overlooked. If you'll excuse me, I'm tired and would like to go back to bed now.” With that she turned and laid down. Her back facing Spot. He groaned internally, and laid himself back down on the couch.


	6. A Time to Celebrate

Chapter Six   
Maries father had returned Monday, and life seemingly returned to normal. Two Shoes had been quiet, and as the days faded into weeks Marie began to relax. Although she still startled easily. She continued to see the Manhattan newsies, and Jack had brought Captain along with him for dinner a few times. Racetrack and Blink were also prominent characters in her life, although she had been avoiding the lodging house altogether. Since the day Jack came to pick her up from Brooklyn she hadn’t seen Spot, although she’d thought about him often enough. Halloween was approaching, and gone were the days it was comfortably warm enough to leave home without a jacket of sorts. Today her father had business in Brooklyn, and had asked her to assist. A wealthy client of his needed a costume for a masked ball he and his family would be attending. While her father worked the measurements for him, Marie had been called upon to design and create magnificent costumes for his two daughters. 

The Montgomery family had been customers of the Bishops for almost as long as Marie had been alive. Her Father and Mr. Montgomery had been boyhood friends who’d randomly reconnected at a hometown party. From there they had discovered they both had moved downtown New York City. Naturally they became one of the Bishop's best customers, and their children, being similar ages, became fast friends. Elizabeth was the eldest sister at nineteen. With bright golden coils of hair, she was mannered and graceful, but incredibly self assured. She attended a year round women's college close enough to home to visit whenever she wished as was the case this weekend. Susanna, a year younger, was every bit as headstrong, but sweeter in disposition, and less confident. Being more then two years younger the girls fancied Marie as a little sister, but were soon overtaken with her wit and abilities, and soon found themselves going to her for advice. Marie reminiced on old memories, playing dress up and such around the Bishop’s shop, or hide-and-seek in the Montgomery’s townhouse. The ornate banasters, and crystal chadelier she

Marie packed her sketchbook and some swatches to take with her. These dresses would be the talk of the party, and she couldn't let her friends down. Once there the girls spent time gossiping, and designing. Elizabeth wanted to be sleeping beauty, as she’d just seen the ballet. Her sister, Susanna insisted on something a bit cheekier. She wanted to be a greek goddess. For Christmas last year she’d received a book of greek myths and was quick to retell them to the other girls. After two hours of picking fabrics, drawing designs and taking measurements Marie was sure the dresses would be perfect. Their fathers, being old friends, had finished much earlier, and gone out to lunch leaving the girls to their own devices.   
“I know a cafe with amazing pastries, and an even more delicious view!” said Elizabeth excitedly.   
“Oh yes!” said Susanna, slightly deviously. “We must take Marie there. The chocolate scones are to die for.”   
“A treat sounds amazing right about now, and I'm sure our fathers won’t be back for another hour.” As Marie said this, she knew wherever they were going, it wasn't the food that had the girls so excited. In all honesty the mystery excited her too.   
With that they were off. They packed their things, grabbed their jackets and made their way out the door. The cafe was only three blocks away, and they sat down outside at a table. After ordering all kinds of sweets, Marie gave in.  
“So what's this terrific view you were both hammering on about?”   
“You’ll see they’ll be here any minute.” whispered Elizabeth. As if on cue, the first cry of Extra! Extra! Rang out around the street.   
The girls chittered excitedly, and Susanna looked up before ducking her head back to the table.   
“There he is!” she motioned to the corner behind her. Marie looked up, and started to laugh.   
“It’s Bricks!” she smiled at the two girls.  
“You know him?”   
“His name is bricks?” said the girls in unison.   
“Sure, do. I met a few of the Brooklyn Newsies through Jack, and Bricks in one of them.” she smiled devilishly. “In fact, why don't we go buy a paper and introduce you guys.”  
“Oh no, wouldn’t that be terribly awkward? He looks like how I’d picture hercules from my book” moaned Susanna.   
“I, for one would love to be introduced.” Elizabeth stood up, waiting for the two other girls to stand. 

Marie tapped Bricks on the back. “Heya Bricks!”   
The muscled boy whipped around. “Saint! howva been?” He smiled widely, revealing a dimple in his left cheek.   
“Great, I'm having lunch with friends.” she motioned to the girls besides her. “And I figured I’d say hello.”   
“Well would you care to introduce me to such lovely ladies?” he turned his gaze onto the girls in question.   
“Bricks, this is Miss Elizabeth Montgomery and her younger sister Miss Susanna Mongomery.”   
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he said.   
“Likewise.” Elizabeth smiled graciously while Susanna remained silent. “Would you like to join us for lunch?” she asked. “We’ve ordered more food then the three of us could possibly eat.”   
“Well, this is my last block to sell on, and I've only a few papers left, but I would love to. I need only a few more minutes to finish.   
“Well, it seems I'm in the right place to aid you in that, I also came over here to purchase a paper.” Elizabeth opened her purse and took out a nickel.   
“It’s only a penny miss.” replied Bricks.   
“Father has always taught me to pay well, consider this an investment. I have tea here quite often, if you wouldn't mind bringing me a newspaper whenever you see me then we would both benefit. I wouldn’t have to get up, and you get paid for the trouble.” Elizabeth motioned to the table behind her.   
He nodded and handed her a paper. “It would be no trouble at all.”   
With the exchange over the girls made their way back to the table. Marie hung back a bit, wanting to catch up privately, and to make sure Bricks knew not to expose the fact she’d spent two days in Brooklyn.   
“It's good to see you again” She started.   
“You too, it was nice having you in Brooklyn for two days, it almost felt weird when you left even though it was such a short stay.”   
“About that, you won't mention it to the others will you, see Jack and I decided not to tell my father about any of that weekend's events, and I'm sure it would scandalize my friends.”  
“Don't worry, I won't say anything.” he returned the smile. “How long are you in Brooklyn for? I'm sure Spot would love to see you.”   
Marie quaffed. “Im sure. I'm Just here for a few hours, business so happened to mix with pleasure. Although, I should be back in a week. I'm creating their,” motioning to her friends behind her. “Costume gowns for an upcoming halloween ball, and next Thursday will be the first fitting.”   
“Well I'll make sure to be here, if you want to stop in to say hi.”   
“Of course I will.” She watched him walk off to sell his last few papers before pivoting and literally running into Spot. 

He grabbed her waist to steady her. Quickly letting go as soon as her feet were firmly on the ground.   
She rubbed her shoulder as she looked up at him. “We have got to stop meeting like this.   
“I don't know, I don't really mind it, although this one was more accidental. I turned the corner the same moment you turned around.   
“See you don't mind because you're never the one walking away bruised when we see each other.” Spot only shrugged in response.   
“How have you been?” Marie punctuated the sentence by straightening her shirt, retucking parts of it in.   
“Fine, fine.” he said almost lazily. “But how about you? Ya know with all the…” he waved his hand in small circular motions. Marie realized he was talking about her nightmares. The second night she’d spent went similarly to the first one. He’d been an ass and they’d ended up arguing, again. She’d had a nightmare, again. And Spot had been there, comforting and consoling her, again.   
“Much better.” she lied. “Thanks for asking. I do have to get back to my friends over there.” she pointed to the table. “But it was great seeing you.” She meant what she said, but was ready to make her escape. The nightmares hadn’t stopped in the month since the attack, but she was sure they would go away eventually.   
“Hey wait one sec.” he grabbed her wrist as she turned to leave, quickly dropping it when he remembered the last time he’d done such a thing. “Brooklyn’s having a Halloween party. You should come. I know Keeper would love ta see you again and the little ones really took a liking to you the last time you were here.”   
“I’ll think about it. She said smiling lightly. “Thanks.” The thanks had been an afterthought but it cleared the air as she scurried back to the table. 

The party would be fun, and she relished the chance to see everyone. Although she saw Jack every day or so, she was hesitant to walk around by herself, and she had begged off from anything to do at the lodging house. But this party would be at the Brooklyn lodging house, all the Manhattan newsies were sure to go. Plus, she could always head back early with the younger newsies when they were sent home. Her father wasn’t aware she had had anything but a stellar time at the last party and she was sure he’d allow her to go if she asked. Things had seemingly gotten better with Queens, and even then, as Spot had said, they wouldn’t dare try and cross into Brooklyn if they wanted to walk out. Manhattan was home, but Brooklyn was safe. She decided she wanted to go. It would get the guys off her back about avoiding them, and she would get to see the Brooklyn Newsies again. The only drawback would be what day it was scheduled for. Every halloween her crotchety old Aunt Velma held a halloween party. Her being such an awkwardly late birth, all the guests ended up being either ten years her senior or ten years her junior, which left few people whose company she enjoyed. Her father however loved it. They would take the train out to his hometown in New Jersey and would stay a few days. He would visit with childhood friends, who all had children her brothers age or grandchildren still years younger than her. Her aunt was the one part she really couldn't stand. While her brother took after their dad with light curling brown hair, and crystal blue eyes, she favored her mother's features. Rich dark chocolate coils of hair, and violet, almost purple eyes. Her features were slight and dainty, her brothers strong and thick. However, they shared the same mischievous smile and eye shape. Her aunt always despised her mother, and made similar barbs at her, but adored her brother. Without her mother there to talk to this year, like last, would be unbearable. She knew it would be hard to get out of going, and they would leave two days before halloween and return two days after. This meant the Brooklyn party either needed to either be before or after. ‘How daft am ?’ she thought. ‘This is a great excuse to not go to aunt Velma’s.’ As long as she locked the door and stayed inside, nobody would even know she was home. There was no fear of Two Shoes, he would think she was in New Jersey like every other year. 

Jack brought it up the following day at lunch. The whole gang gathered at Tibbys per usual.   
“so,” he started casually, “Brooklyns having a halloween party, and I know it didn't go well last time, but it would be really great if you came.” she tried to interject. To tell him she had already decided to go, but He cut her off before she could and proceeded to speed up his sentences, hurling words at her. “Everyone would love to see you and I promise we'll have a good time and there will be someone standing outside watching, and you’d have to miss your aunt's party, but I know you don't actually like going to that so it's sort of a win for you..”   
“Would you stop rambling, I'll go.”   
“Just like that?”   
“Just like that.” she answered.   
“Oh.” he sat back in the booth. “I thought it would be much harder. It's only been a month sin-”   
“Can we just not talk about it?”   
“Oh, umm, sure, sorry”   
“It's fine, a party sounds fun, is it a dress up occasion?”   
“Nope!” said Race excitedly. “Similar to last time, we hang out, drink some booze, then drop there, or stumble home early in the morning. You can’t look like a total bum, but nice clothes would just get ruined.”  
“Not that you would be stumbling home early in the morning either.” interjected Jack.   
“Yeah, no booze in Brooklyn for you.” threw in Blink.   
Jack nodded in agreement.   
Marie rolled her eyes. “So I can drink in Manhattan, but not Brooklyn.”  
“Exactly!” chimed in Jack as he and Blink slid out of the booth and went to settle the bill.   
“Dem brooklyn boys, they aint like us Manhattan guys. We’se got charm, we’se genteel man ya know.” Race waved his hand aristocratically.   
“And Brooklyns all knife fights and hoodlums?” Marie huffed crossing her arms.   
“Well, dey also got fist fights and pickpockets.”   
“Oh that's rich Race, condemning pickpockets, coming from you! The hypocrisy!”   
“Hey i aint done that in years.”   
“They treated me very nicely my two days there.”  
Race leaned in, “it ain’t the same Saint.”   
Marie met his stare, mirroring his movement challengingly. “Why not, cause I'm a girl? ‘Cause I'm Jack’s sister? Nothing has changed since then.”   
“No, in hatten everyone there knows to look out foah you, no outside bouroughs gonna mess with you at a manhatten party.”  
“But I wasn't at--” she interupted.   
“I’se wasn't done.” Race snapped. Marie, wisley shut her mouth. “As I was sayin’ dey wouldnt mess wit you around conlon dem boys loyal as us but in a croud people feel freer to do shit. And in a cround of drunk brooklyn newsies you’se got to be on your toes.”  
“Race, I cant imagine them-”   
“Yeah, you cant cause Spot probably only introduced ya to the ones he trusts, dis aint about what you think, cause I know. cause you’se think you’se smahta den you’se are and it gets ya into trouble. And I'm not gonna let some shit happen cause you got cocky.”   
“I'm not a child, Race! I can think through these things myself!” marie barked and snatched her bag, storming to the door. Race watched her leave and banged his fist into the table.  
“Damn it!”


End file.
